


There's No "I" in Threesome

by pletzel



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Canon, Drinking Games, F/M, M/M, Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pseudo-Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, porn without much plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2484740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pletzel/pseuds/pletzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their first movie night in the new apartment: Finn's fallen asleep, Kurt's mind is on anything but the movie, and Rachel's mind is on nothing but Finn. When Rachel suggests they play 'Never Have I Ever', Kurt just goes for it -- his best friend is so overt with Finn that beating her will be easier than brushing his teeth. Unfortunately for Kurt, he just didn't realize how overt a slightly tipsy Rachel Berry could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No "I" in Threesome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xenachakram12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenachakram12/gifts).



> This fic was originally written in 2012 for the beautiful, inimitable and smarter-than-a-tack [xenachakram12](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xenachakram12/pseuds/xenachakram12). She wanted fic where Rachel, Kurt and Finn fooled around in New York together as one big pseudo-incesty household. This diverges from canon from the end of S4; Rachel and Finn got back together and did the long-distance thing, and Kurt and Blaine gave it another go but it didn't work out. It's been fun stepping out of my comfort zone to write this, and any feedback would be very gratefully received.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe he fell asleep,” Rachel says, the petulant girl she often is rather than the Broadway ingenue she aims to be. Her arm extends itself, the tiny tip of her finger reaching across the bed to poke Finn through the sheets. “He promised!”

Kurt reaches for the remote control and turns off the TV with a flick of his wrist. “It’s not as though we’ve not seen this before,” he mutters, but an exasperated puff of air from Rachel’s exhale hits his cheek all the same.

In spite of Rachel’s exasperation at not having company from her best friend and her boyfriend, a rush of affection sweeps over Kurt as Rachel’s tiny head full of silken hair hits his shoulder, and she snuggles into him. Not even a New York minute ago, she had forgotten all about the movie and was asking Kurt for advice on mature capsule wardrobes; she’s already thinking about Finn. That’s typical. But considering she’s kissed her teenage years goodbye and is still wearing a pink nightshirt with printed white bunnies happily frolicking on it, she should perhaps focus on sartorial issues instead.  

“Finn?” She says, then pokes him again. His lip curls up as he makes a grumble, but he doesn’t stir. “Never mind,” she mutters. But  _oh_ , does she ever mind.

“You missed my brother’s movie trifecta,” Kurt points out. “No boobs, no bombs, no blood,” he says, ticking off each word on his fingers. “He’s like a goldfish with ADHD, Rachel. Did you really think ‘Before Sunrise’ was the best choice?”

“I thought it would help broaden his horizons!”

“No.” Kurt tuts at her. “You thought he’d pick up on how desperate you are to visit Europe.” He slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “Come on. Finn can fall asleep standing up, in a thunderstorm. You know he never stays awake during movie nights. What’s really the issue, here?”

“I just thought...” Rachel sighs. “It’s the first movie night in our new apartment. It’s been humiliating enough that nobody from the old crowd has sent us well-wishes. Even  _Sam_.”

“Oh, Sam? He’s been busy on the gossip blogs ever since Justin Bieber announced his pregnancy.”

“Justin Bieber’s -- but, how? I suppose I  _am_  one of a pair, but --” Kurt’s laughter clearly cuts her off. “I hate you.”

“No.” Kurt watches her chew her lip a little. “You don’t.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Kurt can’t help but sweep some hair from her forehead with affection, noticing her voice is as warm and light as the pancakes at their favorite diner. He looks to Finn, and while he doesn’t want to resent his brother for finally taking everyone’s advice and allowing himself to believe he’s outgrown Ohio, he can’t help being a little jealous. The next time Kurt and Rachel go for a maple latte, he’ll have to put up with his brother and best friend making eyes as gooey as the filling of the peanut butter cup pie he’s sure Finn will order. Kurt will push his pie around his plate, and perhaps get a sympathetic glance from his favorite waitress who’ll smile fondly at Finn and Rachel, commenting on the beauty of  _young love_ , and --  just gag him with a spoon already, okay?

 _Living well is the best revenge_ , Kurt tells himself, wondering what Dorothy Parker would say about a lovelorn gay kid who fully knew he’d be third wheel before he’d even signed the lease. Oh well. Kurt’s survived Brody Weston’s bare, philandering buttocks sweating on the seat of his dining chairs. He can certainly survive this.

“Thanks for your company, brother mine,” Kurt says, considering Finn.

The last few days, Finn's done nothing but heavy lifting; Kurt’s been happy to help, but Finn just grinned.  _Relax, bro_ , he said, his cheeks bright pink from exertion.  _It’s cool. I got it._

Rachel's always such a tiny tornado of energy that she seems to forget Finn needs to recharge his batteries. He looks peaceful, now, body covered by the sheets except for one long, pajama-clad leg. His cheeks are still a little red, dotted with pale brown freckles scattered across cheeks which lead to criminally high cheekbones. If it wasn’t for the fact there are so many hickies on his neck he looks like he’s been the victim of a bear attack, he’d look like a damn Teen Beat pin-up.

“Has my boyfriend done something to offend you?” Rachel asks.

“ _Your_ boyfriend?” Kurt says. “Funny you say that, because it’s you who was devouring his face like a vegan burrito bowl.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Rachel says. “Or see that. We’d been apart for  _months_ , Kurt. Surely you of all people cannot take umbrage at me wanting to appreciate my gorgeous boyfriend after our epic long-distance story reaches its inevitable conclusion?”

“Please remember some of us  _also  _have long-distance stories, and the inevitable conclusion is a broken heart, not a broken mattress,” Kurt says, the mattress squeaking almost on cue as Finn makes a  _hmph  _noise and turns on his side, his boyish features losing some of their appeal as they’re squished into the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel looks at him; she means it. “I know you’re deeply unhappy about how things turned out for you and Blaine.”

“It’s fine. Really, it’s fine.” Kurt says, without having to force a smile. “It’s lovely to see you both so happy. Besides, we all know our definition of prude changed the moment Santana tore into the loft like a storm in a fake D-cup.”

Rachel reaches across Finn, still keeping eye contact with Kurt. “Speaking of  _prude_ ,” she says, grabbing her empty glass. “Care for something stronger than sparkling water?”

“Oh no. No." Kurt folds his arms across his chest. “I have a one drink maximum.”

In response, Rachel gives him  _that_  look. It’s easy to see the Broadway ingenue now. “But Blaine would be upset if we didn’t make use of our glasses!”

“Indeed,” Kurt grits out. “We can’t be having that.”

The second mention of his ex-boyfriend still rattles Kurt a little. That’s silly; it’s been long enough since their second break-up, and just shy of three months since they last saw each other. Kurt’s actually found the stress of going into his senior year has knocked Blaine -- and pretty much everything else -- from his mind. He moved out, and he moved on; trying to find his classes, and helping his spatially-challenged brother prepare for his big move. It’s only in moments like these that Kurt has cause to think of Blaine. The glasses are crystal, and engraved with bow ties. There was a matching hipflask, too.  _So you can always have a piece of me in the Big Apple_ , he’d said. It was a strange parting gift, but it was every inch the dapper 50s gent.

(And also a sign that his then-boyfriend had binge-watched far too much Mad Men.)

“Maybe we should stick with our  _current  _glasses,” Kurt says, reminded that even when Rachel was alone, she still had a star in the sky. All Kurt now has is the damned glasses, an old gym shirt of Blaine’s that he grudgingly admits is much more comfortable than any of his own sleepwear, and a handful of photographs where they looked so happy he’s not sure his language is adequate enough to describe their teenaged joy.

A low ache swirls in his stomach; it’s not want, but it’s loneliness, he thinks. No more notes passed in class, or romantic duets at the piano bar. The ache crawls through his bones when he sees Finn looking at Rachel like she’s brighter than any star in the sky for doing the smallest things; for making him homemade lemonade after he’s unpacked boxes, or reminding him his favorite show is on; or putting his umbrella to dry out in the tub.

“Just a teeny, tiny, little drink?” Rachel says, her voice snapping him out of his reverie.

“Enabler,” Kurt says, although it sounds like a fabulous idea. There’s a certain irony that Rachel Berry, who wore pantsuits in high school and always keeps band aids in her purse, is encouraging him to get wasted. “I’m just...” he starts, then shakes his head.

“It’s okay to talk about it,” Rachel says. “You’re never alone, Kurt. It’s okay to admit you need something.”

“I love you, Rachel.” Kurt sits back, propping himself against a pillow which sadly does not have a cuddly arm attached like Bruce. (Who he’d given to a thrift shop, because Rachel admitted she found it creepy seeing  _that  _when she walked into their dark apartment.) “You’re my best friend, and Finn is...  _Finn_ ,” he settles on. “I know I don’t need to be alone, but that doesn’t stop the fact I’m...”

“Lonely?”

Kurt nods. Rachel always hits the nail on the head. He’s lonely. It feels like a bruise that will always mark his surface; something that shows he’s not quite the strong and self-reliant person he wants the world to see.

“Well, then.” Rachel grins at him and sets her glass down before she claps her hands together. “We could play a little game? I think it could be an invaluable bonding experience.”

“Are you  _serious_? You sound like we’re back in high school.”

Rachel grabs her glass again and sticks out her tongue. “At least I don’t  _dress  _like we’re back in high school.”

“I’ll drink to  _that_ ,” Kurt says.

When Rachel gets up, she walks neatly, which is something of a miracle considering how tiny she is, and the fact she’s already had two wine coolers. When she leaves the room, Kurt wonders what game she has in store. He knows Finn packed a few. Oh please, not Twister. Finn can barely tie his shoelaces, but the fact he loves playing games requiring dexterity is another mystery about his brother Kurt knows he’ll never solve. Grabbing his phone while Rachel busies herself, Kurt’s just stumbled upon a Cracked article on New York’s hottest new secret menu items when he hears, rather than sees, his friend.

“Why didn’t  _I_  think of making that into a burger bun?” Kurt mutters. “Crazy paleo freaks.”

“What?” Rachel stares at him, carrying two glasses and a bottle of something very pink.

“Never mind,” he smiles at her. “Shall I pick the game while you fix us some drinks?”

Rachel sets her supplies down on the desk. “Actually, I was thinking we could play ‘Never Have I Ever’.”

Kurt stares at her. The game can be crude. It can be  _beyond  _crude. Now, Kurt doesn’t consider himself a prude; he’s a fan of intimacy. He does, however, think these things should be kept between the people they concern. Rachel, on the other hand, is so overt with the objects of her affections that Kurt’s surprised she’s not been arrested for indecency. Yes, this game might bring back some of the less favourable aspects of his adolescence, but even without bringing up the many secrets that have been divulged in late night diva chats, Kurt knows beating her will be easier than brushing his teeth.

“Well?” Rachel’s hands are on her hips. “Are you in?”

Kurt nods. “Bring it, Rachel Berry.”

“It?” Rachel’s stare is so intense Kurt feels like he’s withering. “Is brung.”

The instant Kurt laughs, Rachel smiles in response until her eyes crinkle. “Oh, I cannot believe I’m here, in New York, sharing secrets with my favorite gay!” She squeals, and does a sort of barrel roll on the bed, her ponytail flying. Kurt finds himself enveloped in a crazy ball of cherry-almond scent. Kneeling, she bounces up and down a little. “We’ll be like,” she makes a rainbow shape with her hands. “Like Carrie Bradshaw and Stanford Blatch!”

Kurt side-eyes her. “So you think I’m the fifth lady?”

“Rach?” Finn speaks into his pillow, just on the wrong side of sleep. “If you ever make me watch that crap again, I’m getting the next flight outta here.”

“The fifth lady! That’s so offensive!” Kurt protests. “I’m  _perfectly  _masculine. Wouldn’t you say so, Finn?” He glares at his brother’s sleeping form. “Finn? Don't you pretend to sleep. You know it wasn’t just  _you  _who constructed our tree house in senior year.”

“You had a  _tree house_?”  Rachel smiles. “Oh Kurt, that’s adorable.” Rachel springs off the bed and grins at him, then gestures to the bottle of bright pink. “Moving on. Tonight’s drink is raspberry sambuca. Would you care for a glow straw, or the regular kind?”

Kurt shakes his head. He looks towards Finn who's back to snoring softly and drooling into his pillow. “Glow straws, Rachel? Really? Did you learn nothing from your trainwreck?”

Rachel nods. “I learned hydration is important,” she says, indicating the bottle of sparkling water that’s already on the desk. She hands Kurt a very bright pink drink with a very bright pink straw, and raises her own glass in the air while grinning in a maniacal, Cheshire Cat sort of way. “Let’s begin!”

\-- 

“Peh!” Kurt exclaims, on to his second glass of Rachel’s pink concoction. He wonders if it’s rude form to pause the game, because he has an overriding urge to brush his teeth. “This tastes like Dolly Parton’s tears,” he mutters.

They’re well into the game, now, and Kurt’s had to dig deeper than he thought. The easy questions quickly fall by the wayside. Kurt’s sitting on the desk chair, staring across at Rachel who’s sat cross-legged on the bed. Her eyes dart around the room, her forehead creased in thought. A frisson of horror passes through Kurt, because he realizes the truth: Rachel researches  _everything_. She reads reviews on brands of bottled water, and subscribes to blogs about the most effective whitening toothpastes. She’s been readying herself to play this game since elementary school.

“Hm. Never have I ever stopped Tina Cohen-Chang getting a solo,” Kurt says.

Rachel drinks, not missing a beat. Quite honestly, Kurt could repeat this question for every member of Glee, including those who joined after he and Rachel had graduated. That’s, what, at least fifteen questions? It’s a low blow, though, and Kurt Hummel has always considered himself to be a little more creative.

“Okay. Brace yourself. Never have  _I_  ever kissed a girl.”

“Took you long enough,” Kurt says, finishing the putrid liquid in his glass. It smells like the retirement home he volunteers at, and it’s a taste sensation his throat and stomach could do without. “Not even Quinn?” he asks.

“What?” Rachel gapes at him, one eyebrow raised. “That’s abhorrent, Kurt.”

“Oh, come on!” Kurt lowers his voice before he continues. “I’m surprised there isn’t fanfiction about it.”

“Quinn and I have always been friends --”

“No.” Kurt wags his finger at her. “You haven’t.”

“ _Fine_. Quinn and I have  _sometimes_  been friends,” she amends, tugging down the hem of her nightshirt. “And nothing more. Is there a purpose of this, other than to stall the game because  _you  _cannot admit you are  _losing_?”

“Oh, I’m not stalling.” Kurt singsongs his question, because why the hell  _not_. “Never have I ever made out...” he pauses for effect, staring her down and hoping his expression doesn’t betray his amusement. “With my best friend’s boyfriend.”

“I...” Rachel’s glare has leveled up in its intensity, and she’s stuttering.  _Good_. “You’re a hypocrite,” she says, pointing her finger at Kurt. Then, she settles that same finger against her lip. Her voice sounds as confused as she looks. “Blaine was also  _my  _boyfriend. Was he not? So I believe that you should be drinking, too.”

“Oh my god, Rachel. One date, ending in solid confirmation of him being one hundred percent gay, does not equate to Blaine  _ever  _being your boyfriend.”

“If you must be so picky, then technically it was  _two  _dates.”

“I don’t care. You wrote songs about him.”

“I wrote songs about the janitor!” Rachel’s raising her voice, her eyebrows so scrunched she’s looking scarily like Shelby Corcoran did when she was throwing a fit at Vocal Adrenaline. “I wrote songs about my  _hair accessories_!”

“Drink up, Toots!”

“I don’t  _like  _this game.”

“You suggested it.”

“I’ll get you for that,” Rachel says, taking a sip of her drink. Then, she falls silent.

While she’s thinking about her corresponding question, Kurt makes a mental tally of the topics that have come up so far: childhood crushes (Mr. Schue and Disney’s Aladdin -- Kurt’s quite aware he has a type and it has thankfully never been a school teacher); sneaking into the boys’ locker room (guilty as charged) and the fact Rachel does  _not  _know how Jesse St. James looks  _sans trou_ , thank you very much, and the idea he is ‘overcompensating’ in that area is apparently equal parts crude and intriguing.

“Aha!” Rachel smirks. Kurt can’t remember the last time she smirked. “Never have I ever been in love with my b --”

Kurt shakes his head because  _no_. No. She just wouldn’t. “Rachel... that’s....” He shakes his head again. “ _Please_ , don’t.”

“Brother. Never have I ever been in love with my brother.”

Kurt sputters. He knew it was coming at some point. What he should do is say that Rachel is being unfair, because of  _course  _she can’t have a crush on her brother, because she’s an only child. That would allow Kurt to handle this magnificently, and with dignity. Instead, he feels his mouth open, and his eyelid twitches. He probably looks like one of those silly carnival games where you fill a clown’s balloon mouth with a water pistol.

“ _Oh my_,” Rachel says. “I --” She shakes her head. “Oh.”

“Yes, Rachel.” Kurt forces a smile, but it’s making his cheeks sore. “I was ever so slightly in love with him. I think the whole of the school knew; probably the whole of Lima knew. Our  _parents  _knew.  _You  _know. Is that honestly the best you can do?”

Pride, Kurt thinks, pride is  _good_. He should really tell Rachel to stick her bottle of pink crap where the sun will never shine, because there are limits, here. However... that wouldn’t be winning. And not only is Kurt a fan of winning, but he’s also a fan of wearing his pride like his favorite brooch. (A vintage Vivienne Westwood Orb and Saturn ring pin; a 21st birthday present from Finn who’d clearly consulted Rachel for gift-giving advice.)

“Well....” Rachel continues. “I...”

“And besides!” Kurt says, waving his drink a little erratically. “It’s a moot point, because when I liked him? You and I weren’t even friends. Let alone best ones.”

“Him?” Rachel raises an eyebrow. “We are talking about Finn, aren’t we?”

Kurt rolls his eyes at her before refilling his glass, noticing Rachel still has plenty in hers. “Yes. We are. Unless there’s another hot, straight brother hiding in the closet over there.”

At that, Rachel snorts into her first. Kurt just rolls his eyes cooly at her. And her open mouth winces then closes.

“Very mature, Rachel. I was fifteen, alright? I was ever so slightly attracted because he was the only boy at school who didn’t try to strangle me with my own shirt sleeves. I hasten to add, that was probably not too dissimilar to the reasons why  _you_  fell for him, too.”

“We do tend to have the same taste in men,” Rachel says. “Although, really, ever so slightly? Come on, Kurt. You storyboarded outfits for your dates. You  _still  _have a playlist called ‘Hopelessly Devoted to Finn’ on your iPod.”

“Who told you that!”

“Mercedes,” Rachel says. “I think it’s cute, though. Without your silly little crush back then, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?” She begins to sing, low and beautiful. “I’ve heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason...”

“Whatever the reason, it’s not something we talk about.  _Ever_. Conversation closed, let me just get my --”

Rachel looks down into her drink. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was off-limits.”

Kurt walks over to her and places two fingers under her chin, tilting it up. She’s serious. Oh, he does love her. “Anything from the 2009 to 2010 school year is.” He nudges her shoulder gently. “Including the time I overheard you telling Finn he was repressing his feelings because he refused to sing the Dawson’s Creek theme when we did songs from TV shows in Glee.”

There’s a sparkle in Rachel’s eyes Kurt can’t quite place. “That’s why you’re a positive influence. I mean, the difference between  _us  _is that I thought it was a charming romantic song about seizing the moment. You glibly informed me it was about PTSD in military veterans, and thus I reconsidered.”

“I might have had ulterior motives,” Kurt points out. “Not that it mattered. After anything by Miley Cyrus, that’s his least favorite song.”

“And that’s why I asked.” Rachel says, quietly. “I never doubt his devotion towards me, but the bond between the two of you is something so special, that sometimes, I think if -- I mean, I try to guide him. Perhaps even push him a little too hard. It’s you that’s his anchor.”

“We’re brothers,” Kurt explains, because he knows that Finn needs someone impartial in his corner, and knows that he needs to be grounded; if you push him too hard, he’ll run. “It takes a lot of work, but all relationships do.”

“I see,” Rachel says.

Kurt waits, wondering if she’ll perhaps expand upon that, but she doesn’t. “I believe it’s your turn, he says.”

“Kurt? When you were with Blaine, did you ever consider a... threesome?”

Squinting, Kurt downs the rest of his drink in a single gulp. “That’s not how you play the game.”

“I know. I was just curious. That’s the point of this game, no?” She looks across to her glass. “Care for a refill?”

“I’m good,” Kurt says. “I’ll get us some water.”

Walking to the desk, Kurt places his hand flat on it, taking a steadying breath before retrieving Rachel’s empty glass, and pouring them both a glass of sparkling water. Unlike Blaine’s, these glasses are engraved with small gold stars, and Kurt recalls them being a housewarming gift from Rachel’s fathers. Briefly, he wonders if he’s not quite gold star gay enough, because engraved glasses seem to be something of a  _thing_. When he passes Rachel her glass, it’s eerily quiet in the room. The sounds of the city outside seem to have stilled, and the only noises in the room are Finn’s soft breathing, and the quiet fizz of the water in their glasses.

Kurt sets his drink on the bedside table, and holds Rachel’s hand in his, rubbing his fingers over her knuckles.

“Sorry, Kurt.  I didn’t mean to be so intense.”

Kurt squeezes her hand before letting it drop back onto her lap. “You are  _always_ intense. It’s what we love about you. Yes, I did discuss the merits of a menage a trois with Blaine, but you know how insecure I am. I never felt I was enough for him. Having another person involved would have been disastrous.” Kurt grins at her. “Okay, it could have been hot, but I’m glad our discussions remained purely hypothetical. Besides, it’s not as though there were any contenders.”

“I’m sorry he made you feel that way, Kurt.”

“It was never intentional,” Kurt says. “He was a good boyfriend. Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be.”

“I still think he’s a fool,” Rachel says, her voice as prickly as the water in her glass. “He’s a fool who threw away the best this city has to offer.”

“Hardly.” Kurt sighs. “You’re dating the best this city has to offer. Look, the only reason you two have worked is because you’re not the people you were back in high school. I’ve changed, too.  Blaine just didn’t grow alongside me, he wanted to spend every waking moment together; I wanted more freedom. More  _fun_.”

Rachel’s grinning at him, now. “You definitely have changed.”

“I have?”

“You’ve definitely cast off the shackles.When we first met, I’d never have thought you were the type to do calisthenics wearing booty shorts and your Officer Krupke hat.”

“They weren’t booty shorts. They were  _sports shorts_. I was exercising my masculine side.”

“I like your masculine side,” Rachel says, almost.... flirty? That can’t be right. “It’s a shame Finn’s asleep. I’m sure he’d have something to say about your  _arresting  _situation.” She giggles. “Arresting? Officer Kru --”

“You are  _so_  drunk,” Kurt says, but then he sees Rachel turn towards him, an expression he wishes he didn’t recognize coloring her features. “Oh, Rachel.” He reaches for her free hand, realizing it’s not the alcohol. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“When you and Blaine considered a menage a trois. Was it... was it with  _me_?”

Kurt’s felt a little bit of a buzz from the alcohol, but it’s not that which makes him laugh. He curls his knees against his chest and clutches them with his hands, trying not to shake the bed too much with the deep laughter that bubbles from his gut. Why on earth would two very, very gay men want a threesome with  _her_?

“Well, who  _did_ you and Blaine consider?”

Whistling a few high notes, Kurt tries to display his best approximation of a poker face, because he’s pretty sure Rachel’s about to realise that the first person Kurt thought of was Blaine’s brother. And, unfortunately, the first person he  _discussed_ with Blaine -- on a purely, purely theoretical basis -- was his very own. Of course, it had nothing to do with the reality of Finn, but was based on the fantasy. A fantasy where he looked, and sounded, like an actor in a Sean Cody porno. A faceless jock with a hot body who needed help rubbing ointment into his back after being sacked in one of his football games. That was the only reason Kurt was able to continue looking Finn in the eye during family dinners.

After all, the reality was more likely to douse himself in BioFreeze and dash into an icy shower, towel up to his armpits, wailing 80s soft rock into his bar-soap microphone.

“Kurt?” Rachel probes him. “Who was it?”

A blast hits Kurt. It’s not strong and icy like that hypothetical shower, but it’s destructive, like Finn’s eyes, his smile. The smile that used to cause Kurt to doodle on test papers. The smile he’d take a detour around the school for. Honestly, if Finn had even a modicum of perspicacity back then, he’d have taken out a restraining order.

“Are you okay?” Rachel says.

Kurt nods, coils of heat spiralling through his cheeks. “I was just thinking of the silly little celebrities we used to talk about, like Taylor Lautner and the cute one from Teen Wolf.”

Rachel shakes her head. “Oh.” Her eyes narrow. “It was  _Finn_ , wasn’t it? You thought about having a threesome with  _Finn_!”

“Does it matter?” Kurt’s words are unpracticed, but flow more easily than the sugary alcohol he had in his glass earlier. “There’s more chance of Jennifer Lawrence being elegant on the red carpet than there is of Finn being receptive to even the slightest of advances from a boy, and that is exactly why I don’t think of him as anything  _but_ my brother.” He sighs. “Remember that callback you had last month?”

“The one where they said I didn’t quite have the right ‘look’?” Rachel’s voice, usually so confident, falters. “Finn said they were crazy, but he  _has  _to say that, doesn’t he?” She takes a sip of water, picking at the embroidery on the sheets with her free hand. “But I really don’t see how that relates to --”

“You don’t have the right look? I don’t have the right  _gender_.” Kurt rubs gently at Rachel’s shoulder, because he’s not angry with her for stating the obvious. He loves the openness he has with his best friend. “Finn likes girls. Girly girls. Girls with long legs, and smooth hair, and everything that entails.”

“Kurt, you --”

“Everything I’m  _not_ ,” Kurt says, shaking his head, because not only does Finn like girls, but he likes them like Rachel: headstrong, intelligent, and as brave as they are beautiful. He’s come to accept Finn and Rachel’s relationship over the years; once they stopped putting each other’s interests above their own and realized they didn’t have to compromise on their goals to be together, they were amazingly good for each other.

 _Are_ , Kurt reminds himself. They  _are_. Kurt’s best friend has a NYADA degree and two Broadway shows under her belt, and Finn had transferred to the Psychology program at NYU after realizing he was more interested in  how people learn rather than helping them to learn. He actually  _grinned  _when Kurt pointed out he’d probably be in his thirties by the time he was finished with school. Once he was able to  _apply  _his curiosity to something, he showed he was sharper than the point of a sewing needle.

“Finn?” Rachel looks between the pair of them. “Are you awake?”

Kurt shushes her. He knows if Rachel wakes his brother up, she’ll be sleeping on the fire escape, and he realises with alacrity that Rachel has passed into what Finn once termed a ‘needy girl’ drunk.

“Finn!” Rachel says, louder than before. She crawls over, her nightshirt barely covering the wiggle of her butt, and pokes his bicep. “Finn?”

“If you wake him up, I will end you,” Kurt mutters. When he turns to look at her, he can see a harsh glare color her pretty features. It’s the sort of glare that she doesn’t realise can hit the uninitiated with more accuracy than a sniper. “Let’s talk about something else,” he says, because he can wear that glare well, too. In fact, he fires it back at her.

“Let’s talk about ...” Rachel’s voice is conspiratorial as she leans over. “Intimate things.”

“No.”

“But when we were in high school, Tina and I always --”

“Tina Cohen-Overshare never had sex with my  _brother_.”

“Well, if things had been a little different, Blaine would be my brother-in-law,” she says. “And you’ve told me plenty of details about him. Why can’t  _I_  share?”

Knowing Rachel as well as he does, Kurt knows this isn’t a battle he can win. He flops down on the bed and closes his eyes, aware he might be preparing for a rather long flight. It’s not as though he wants to hear about Finn’s ... attributes, but if Rachel continues to be a needy girl drunk and poke and prod his brother, Finn might wake up while Kurt is dwelling on feelings that have been buried for four years. If that happens? Kurt might as well pack a knapsack and spend a night singing to the pigeons in Central Park.

“Oh, fine, then.” Kurt hopes the grit of his teeth shows Rachel he’s anything  _but_. “Just don’t talk about his thing.”

“But I _like_ his thing!”

“Do you  _seriously  _call it that?”

Rachel’s prim, hands folded in her lap, belaying the fact she’s talking about her boyfriend’s genitalia with casual abandon while said boyfriend is asleep in the same room. “In polite company, yes. I don’t yet have a name for his penis.” She’s quiet again. She smacks her lips together. “Does  _yours  _have a name?”

Kurt rolls his eyes at her. “Of course not. That would be like Finn having names for your boobs.”

Rachel gapes a little at him, then looks down at the bedsheets.

“Get. _Out_.”

“My left one’s a little larger.” Rachel’s tugging on the neckline of her nightshirt, peering at her own chest, Kurt assumes. “Finn says that one’s his favorite, so he ....”

“Please stop.”

“Where shall we start, then!” Rachel says, readjusting her bra strap.

Kurt places his finger to the corner of his mouth. He considers a range of questions; anything not carefully considered will result in him being asked questions himself. Ones that he doesn’t want to answer. He stares at the bare walls, then at the floor, and then at several boxes that Rachel has labelled neatly and are yet to be unpacked. He looks everywhere he can but at his brother’s slumbering form, which rests only an arm's length away.

“Perhaps you could ... talk about what  _you  _enjoy?” he says, knowing that once Rachel begins talking about the  _synergy  _between herself and Finn, it’s nigh-on impossible for her to stop.

“Everything,” Rachel says, her answer flowing like she’s belting out her favorite solo.

“That’s that, then. Another movie perhaps?” Kurt speaks loudly again, thinking now would actually be a great time for his brother to wake up. “I can’t believe Finn hasn’t seen ‘The Room’ yet! It’s like Rachel’s ‘Run Joey Run’ video with boobs!”

“Very funny, Kurt.” Rachel sighs, biting down on her lip before she continues. “Fine, then. If you  _must  _know, I especially enjoy Finn’s gentle, tender hands. He’s a very adept masseuse.”

If Kurt’s honest, he really didn’t  _want  _to know. It’s impossible to reconcile that with  _his  _image of Finn, who pokes himself in the eye with his pen while he’s studying and has already fallen  _up  _the stairs to their apartment. Twice. The idea of him being gentle and tender, giant hands over his best friend’s tiny back, is akin to imagining  a grizzly bear bottle-feeding a newborn kitten.

“His back rubs are  _magical_.”

“I wish I didn’t know that,” Kurt mutters. “Finn still owes me for dry cleaning from when you two fooled around in my room yesterday.”

“It wasn’t  _entirely_  his fault....” Rachel raises an eyebrow and seems to look serious, but within a few seconds she’s laughing, in that infectious way she always does when they watch guilt TV after a long day of rehearsals. “I was looking for the scarf you said I could borrow. I’d placed it on the bed for not even one second, and then he ...” Rachel’s biting her lip as Kurt nods for her to continue. “We saw the massage oil on your bedside table, and ... one thing led to another. I’m sorry we ruined your sheets.”

“Please don’t give me back that scarf,” Kurt says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ever.”

“Oh, no. We didn’t use your scarf for  _that_.” Rachel starts playing with the loose hair at the end of her ponytail. “Finn doesn’t need restraints to control proceedings.”

“Rachel!” Kurt squeaks.

The thing is, she’s actually thinking about it now. Kurt can tell, because Rachel’s giving Finn’s sleeping form that crazy, starry-eyed look that indicates she’d rather Kurt wasn’t here at all. Tracking Rachel’s gaze means that Kurt’s found himself looking at  _Finn_ , and thoughts of how Finn might  _control proceedings_  flit to the front of his mind. Finn’s shirt is well-worn, and fitted enough for Kurt to tell his brother’s abs aren’t toned like an Andrew Christie model. That’s not exactly a disappointment; Kurt’s never been an abs guy. Much. He’s always been more of an ass guy, and very much a fan of strong arms and shoulders, and talented hands, and oh does Finn have those. How good would he look, smile focused on Kurt with oil-slick hands sweeping across the sensitive skin of his --

“Isn’t he handsome?” Rachel says. “I know it’s a little creepy, but I love to watch him sleep.”

Kurt sighs as he watches Finn wriggle in the sheets. His pajama pants are tight and cling to thighs that aren’t quite as muscled as the top half of his body. He hopes Rachel realizes how lucky she is to be able to stroke the tips of her fingers along the backs of those thighs, to place her hands underneath the worn fabric of Finn’s shirt and map the contours of his back. She can watch, but she can also  _touch_. Kurt can see, and think, but as much as he yearns, he’ll never be able to  _feel_.

“You’re right,” Kurt says. “That  _is_  a little creepy,” he replies, following the long line of Finn’s thighs into his long, toned calves peppered with light brown hair and a few moles he would sell his tiara collection for getting the chance to trace with his tongue.

“Do you think he watches me?”

“Rachel.”

“Yes?”

“He never stops,” Kurt says, and pats the pillow next to him. “Come here.”

Nodding, she does, looking at Kurt with such adoration as she curls into him, tilting her head up to give him a peck on the cheek. “He’s just so gentle. He holds my face in his hands, like he never wants to let go. Ever since that first night we spent together, he’s just been perfect.”

Kurt sighs at the memory, remembering Blaine who always treated him like something to hold on to, even if he wasn’t always so gentle. Unable to stop himself, the blood rushing a little away from his brain, he blurts out, “Tell me more?”

“He’s always considerate. Every time, he puts my pleasure first,” Rachel says, and she sounds proud. Really, Kurt thinks, isn’t that a requisite quality in your sexual partners? “And between you and me, he’s not only gifted with his size, but he definitely knows what to do with it. Practice has only  _improved  _on perfect.”

“It’s impossible to improve on perfect,” Kurt says, because pointing out logical fallacies is really all he has going for him right now.

“You haven’t felt his hands on you.”

Kurt gasps, hit by a wave of ... of  _something_. He feels Rachel shift, moving a little closer to Finn. She makes a gentle sigh, a little like leaves rustling in a light fall breeze, and Kurt falls the air rush into his mouth when he opens it, as she’s sliding her tiny hand up the slender curve of her waist. The movement causes her nightshirt to ride up; her thighs are exposed, silky and slender and tanned, and he whimpers, his neurons firing with sensations he doesn’t know what to do with.

 _There’s only one possible match, here_ , he reminds himself.  _Let it go. Conceal, don’t feel._

“Mm. And his mouth on you, while his fingers stroke every spot they can reach.” Rachel continues, stroking her soft skin, languid. “He’s  _more  _than perfect.”

Who in the fresh hell  _is_  this succubus, and what has she done with his best friend? What has she done in general, because Kurt can conceal his thoughts, but that doesn’t mean he’s not still feeling them. He’s always wondered about what it would be like to be with Finn; what boy in his position  _wouldn’t_? It was easier to shake those fantasies away when he thought of Finn as clumsy. Over-handsy and with an  _arrival problem_. Lights off, straight-up missionary, and more vanilla than a soft serve cone.

 _This_? Changes all that. And then some.

“I can help,” Rachel says, quietly.

Kurt’s so focused on the sounds and images in his brain, Finn’s dark eyes with coal black pupils dilating, locked only on his, that he nods, pretty sure he misheard her.

“I can give you tips. On using your mouth?”

Kurt raises an eyebrow at her. Poor, sweet, yet strangely adventurous Rachel. “Your mouth?” he says, remembering the neanderthals in the locker room never mentioned girls enjoyed doing  _that_.

Rachel reaches one tiny hand over, resting it on Kurt’s thigh. She rubs the tips of her fingers, making him feel  _something_ , even if it’s not fireworks. “Maybe  _some  _girls, but I don’t care what some girls think. It’s so  _powerful_ , knowing I can please him like that. Feeling him in my mouth.” She curls the tips of her fingers into the fabric of his pajama pants, then traces them a little higher. “It’s hard work, though. Finn is  _rather  _gifted in that area.”

“Hard work?”

Rachel giggles, pressing her palm down, and Kurt groans.

“You are...  _terrible_ ,” he forces out, about to push her hand away, but Rachel places her other hand on top, holding their hands there in some sort of crude circling pattern. Rachel looks so determined about ... well,  _something_ , that Kurt has a hard time telling his best friend there are boundaries here. That rather than telling her he needs to take an early night, he can only think of her tiny mouth stretched obscenely around the shiny, swollen head of Finn’s dick, and there it is.

There goes his last chance to look Finn  _or_  Rachel in the eye again.  _Ever_.

“Did you remember that tawdry picture Sebastian Smythe made?” Rachel’s leaning over, whispering, now. “Finn’s hand doesn’t even cover it. I have to use  _both  _hands, and even then, I --”

Kurt’s throat is feeling like crushed saltines, his skin too small for his body, and Rachel’s hands are still there. They press down on his inner thigh, his own hand feeling large and warm in between, and none of the images rolling through his brain are remotely healthy, or appropriate. It’s not Rachel pleasing Finn, but him. It’s his large hands, as pale as Finn’s flesh, spreading strong thighs apart. Hands clutching deep into the give of Finn’s flesh, Kurt licking his lips and wetting them, ready to taste. He’d rub at Finn’s ass, the long legs spreading apart to let him taste, groaning as a large hand gripped at his hair.

Whimpering, Kurt closes his eyes. His cock’s pressing uncomfortably against the fabric of his underwear, and he’d give anything to relieve some of that pressure right now. He’d give  _Finn’s  _anything, Finn whispering low and sultry in his ear about how  _good  _Kurt looks, how  _right  _they are, how he’s wanted this for _so long_ , fingers sliding across his hard flesh to unbutton his fly.

“I --” Kurt opens his eyes and pulls away, but the movement shifts Rachel’s hand upwards and she moves her mouth in a silent  _oh_  as it presses down on his erection. Her eyes are so wide that he thinks he could probably see the back of her brain if he actually looked. “I need to call my --”

“Kurt?” Rachel sounds genuinely concerned, but she’s not moving her hand. “Are you aroused?”

Kurt nods. Like she needs to ask that question. He would speak, but his voice would be such a high pitch it would sound ludicrous even to his own ears.

“It’s okay.” She smiles, then nods back. It’s like she’s teaching a group of kids how to hit perfect pitch rather than catching her best friend -- who really happens to be rather gay -- with an erection hard enough to break through walls. “I understand. You can kiss me, if you want to.” She leans a little closer, extracting her hand and placing it on the curve of his cheek. “It might relieve some tension. And we might as well get used to being intimate for when we share the billing as romantic leads.”

She  _is_  beautiful. Kurt can’t deny that. He’s kissed girls before, and it’s been  _nice_ , and none of them have been as pretty as Rachel. A sugary tongue and sugary lips might push  _those  _thoughts from his mind, and he nods at her. “Romantic leads, eh?” he says, knowing his lips curve up into a smile, and what’s the harm, really?

“Pucker up!” Rachel says, leaning in, and it takes Kurt a few seconds to untangle what happens next. He gasps in the back of his throat as Rachel leans in, lips pressing against his. The noise she makes floats around him; it’s low and deep, and  _sensual_ , and he puts his hands in front of his chest, a little helpless as he doesn’t know quite where to place them. Exhaling, he places one in front of him, and hits the swell of Rachel’s breast as she deepens the kiss. He cups it without thinking, and considers its feel. It’s further evidence that the guys in the locker room have no idea what they’re talking about; it’s not exactly squishy, but firm. It fits perfectly into his palm.

“Mm, Kurt,” Rachel says, when they break away. “You’re very good at that.”

Kurt gives her breast a soft squeeze. It actually feels pretty good to be touching her like this. “You shouldn’t complain about these,” he says, Rachel gasping high and needy when he runs his finger over her stiff nipple. “They’re perfect.”

“Really?” Rachel beams at him, like it’s her birthday and every obscure Jewish holiday all at once.

Kurt murmurs his assent and leans in again, deepening the kiss this time. There’s no chance he could pretend this was anyone else but Rachel. It smells like her, of sugary raspberry drink and cherry-almond scent, her tongue brushing his gently, then a little more aggressively. He uses his other hand to rub at her jaw. Rachel’s skin is soft, and the hair trapped in the ponytail is silky as it glides through the gaps in his fingers. Her groan is soft as she slides into his lap, winding her arms around his chest, her sharp nails clutching at his shoulder.

“This is nice?” he asks, and Rachel  _must  _be able to feel how hard he is as he drags her back in again, deepening the kiss. He’s not lying. It is nice. This is perhaps a regular latte, compared to the caramel macchiato of doing this with a really cute boy, but it certainly isn’t without its merits.

When they part, Rachel softly moans into his shoulder, then looks up at him with wide eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair’s winding its way out of its messy ponytail. “That was...” she laughs a little. “Well.”

“Yes.” Kurt smiles. He slides his hand from the crown of her head and moves it down Rachel’s spine, until it’s resting on her ass. “It was,” he says, then presses more kisses at the soft skin of her jaw.

“ _Rach_?”

Immediately, Kurt pulls away with a lewd smack of his lips. His movement manages to pull the hand that rests on Rachel’s ass away just in time. His heart’s scuttling around in his chest like meerkats dashing across the Kalahari, and he looks at Finn whose eyes are thankfully closed. Thank god, thank god. He thanks his lucky stars and thanks everything else that Finn’s eyes are closed. He doesn’t want his brother to give him a black eye, and a  _stay away from my future wife_  speech that’s as terrifying as it is ludicrous. When he looks again, Finn’s smiling. Boyish, and innocent, and it causes even more guilt to run through Kurt’s body.

“Rach,” Finn repeats. He pats the mattress, narrowly avoiding the space where Kurt and Rachel are sat. “C’mere babe.”

“Go back to sleep, Finn,” Kurt says, drawing his finger across his neck as he looks at Rachel.

In response, Rachel’s eyes seem even wider than his but she’s not making a move. Kurt rotates his hips, trying to push her off. Maybe he can sneak out before Finn opens his eyes, but the shoddy upholstery clearly has other ideas. The tell tale bed creaks under his weight, putting his erection in contact with Rachel who moans under her breath.

“Uh, guys?” Finn says.

Kurt looks to Rachel, who is appropriately silent for what might be the first time in her life.

“Why are you guys, like, grinding on each other?” Finn’s looking at them, and Kurt can feel the bed shift as he sits up. “Is this one of those weird NYADA assignments?” Finn coughs a little; his eyes must be open, now. “It is for an assignment right?”

Kurt nods. “Something like that,” he says, the words rushing over his teeth and out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Rachel’s helping me make stagecraft my bitch.”

“Don’t be jealous!” Rachel says, brightly. “He remained  _strictly  _above the waterline.”

“Gross,” Finn mutters.

“I’m  _gross_?” Kurt says, a little more snappily than he’d intended. He looks at Finn who meets his eyes and winces under his glare.

“No!” Finn pouts a little, then shakes his head. “Don’t  _do  _that. You know I don’t think you’re gross. You just looked, uh...” he flashes Kurt the expression that suggests he thinks Kurt has all the answers. “Okay, yeah. It’s super weird, but I guess it’s cool?”

“It’s cool,” Kurt echoes.

“Cool.” Finn pats the bed again. “C’mere, Rach. I missed you.”

“You were _ right here_,” Kurt says.

They don’t seem to hear him. Rachel slides off Kurt’s lap and rolls herself over until she’s next to Finn. Rather than a chaste peck, she crawls on top of his long body, a tangle of her tanned, lithe limbs visible as she just  _goes_ for it. Kurt doesn’t need to look, because he can hear the wet smack of lips meeting, and a rather masculine groan reverberates off the room’s walls.

“Mm,” Finn says, sounding like he’s just had a large bite of apple pie a la mode. “What’s got into you, babe?”

“ _You_ ,” Rachel says, punctuated with a little giggle.

“Rachel?” Kurt clears his throat and points to his chest. “His brother’s in the room.”

“So?” Finn shrugs. He gives Rachel a brief peck, and shifts so they’re both sat up, his arm curled around her.

“And if it were me and a  _boy_?” Kurt counters.

“Dude, that’s different!”

Kurt shakes his head. “No,” he says. “It really isn’t.”

The three of them fall quiet, and Kurt looks at his best friend and brother. They fit together perfectly, Rachel so tiny as she slots against Finn’s broad chest. Kurt knows he could never fit there that perfectly; he’d look large and ungainly in her place. Finn smiles at Kurt, warming him and Kurt can’t help but smile back at him as Finn leans down and kisses the center of Rachel’s forehead.

“You know, Finn,” Rachel says, then leans in to give Finn a quick cheek kiss. “You do realise that out of the three of us, you and Kurt are the only two who haven’t had a little snog."

“Rachel.” Kurt hopes his voice is a good enough weapon to warn her away; it’s really the only weapon he has right now. No sooner does he say her name in  _that_ tone than he hears a hitch in Finn’s breath. It catches in his throat. Typical, Kurt thinks. He shoots Finn his frostiest glare. His brother’s had over five years to adjust to the reality that Kurt likes to kiss boys.

Kurt suspects Finn is going to erase all that progress in one single sweep thanks to Rachel’s meddling, but when Finn speaks, his voice is imbued with just as much warning. “Don’t, Rach,” he says, shaking his head. “You can see he’s totally uncomfortable.”

Kurt brightens up at that. He needs to stop expecting his brother to deliver the worst possible outcome. “As is Finn,” Kurt adds. “Maybe if we were in Kentucky?”

“Didn’t you once say you could kiss your brother there?” Rachel asks, sugar sweet.

Finn’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. He scrunches his eyes up, one hand clenching in a fist. “I ... I don’t wanna kiss him  _anywhere_.”

“Oh, believe me, Finn.” Kurt stands up, shaking his head. “Your brother doesn’t want to kiss you anywhere, either.” He stretches his arms, then bends to retrieve his glass.

Kurt’s thankful this conversation has dissipated much of his earlier arousal; kissing Finn would cause so much straight boy panic that it wouldn’t be worth its while, anyway. That would apply were he a handsome stranger in a bar in Hell’s Kitchen, or if they indeed  _were  _rehearsing for a play.

“Kurt. Finn.” Rachel speaks crisply. “As you are aware, the roommate agreement we signed  _does  _mandate unequivocal honesty and transparency.”

“Huh?” Finn’s eyebrows are still comically high.

“I think it might be prudent to divulge certain matters,” Rachel tells him.

“I’m a prude if I  _tell  _you stuff?” Finn’s scratching at the back of his neck, and looking at Kurt as if to say  _please tell me there’s a cheat sheet  for this._

“It’s perfectly okay to be curious,” Rachel says, looking between the pair of them.

Finn’s shaking his head. “I’m not  _curious  _about  _anything_!” he protests, and were he not so clearly distressed, it would be far too easy to make many cheap shots.

“Tell him, Kurt! Tell him it’s okay!” Rachel says, her face lighting up like she’s teaching Finn how to balance equations and he’s finally solved a problem on his own steam.

“What’s okay?” Kurt says, sure his expression is a mirror of Finn’s.

“Sexual curiosity!” Rachel claps her hands together. “It’s fine! Really!”

Kurt watches Finn’s mouth open so wide that he could probably insert his fist into it.  Finn stands up, large hands flopping at his sides like he’s looking for imaginary pockets. There’s nothing but silence, there isn’t even any traffic passing outside, and Kurt wishes for his phone to ring, or for the oven timer to spring to life, or for a sudden allergy to New York to cause him to go into anaphylaxis, or ... or a  _something_. Finn’s looking like he did that time Puck dared him to eat a deep-fried ghost pepper at the State Fair.

Although the odds are high he’ll be pushed away, Kurt thinks Finn would really appreciate a hug.

Rachel gets there first, though. She’s throwing her tiny body at his chest, reaching up to pet at his hair. “It’s okay,” she says, gentler than most people would think her capable of. “It’s okay, Finn.”

Finn’s still silent. He’s hunched over Rachel’s tiny body, looking like he wishes he could bury his head into her chest but he can’t. Instead, he buries his chin into his own chest. He doesn’t put his arms around Rachel. They’re still resting at his side, like pendulums, deadweight. It’s as though he’s got so much going on in his brain that there’s not enough brain cells left for his body to reconfigure its position. He  _is  _a deep thinker, and he’s definitely thinking now.

“Rachel.” Kurt aims for accusatory, but he’s sounding rather flat. “Why would you  _say_ that?”

Finn detaches himself from the hug and walks over to Kurt, hands crossed over his chest. “Yea,” he says, his voice an echo of Kurt’s. “Why  _would  _you?”

“Because I can help!” Rachel says.

“Ever the true humanitarian,” Kurt mutters, earning him a snicker from Finn.

“Well. While I am, of course, a one on the Klein Sexual Orientation Grid,” Rachel says, and smiles, almost fondly at the pair of them before continuing, “I would suggest Finn is perhaps a two. Potentially a three. And from our dalliance earlier, Kurt is certainly showing it’s something of a  _sliding  _scale. There’s clearly only one solution."

“Move to Russia?” Kurt suggests.

“Wait, Kurt?” Finn sounds intrigued enough, but he’s looking down at the ground and to the side. He then looks up and gives Kurt the same look he does when Kurt makes him lasagna for dinner. “You and Blaine had a  _sex grid_? Dude, that’s sort of hot, if not totally freaky, and ...”

“Klein, Finn.” Rachel tuts, wagging her finger at him. “Not  _Klaine_.”

“I really have  _no  _idea what’s she’s talking about,” Kurt says, then leans towards Finn, his voice lowered. “As usual.”

Finn, though, breaks away and starts to pace again. “Is, uh, is a two  _bad_?” He walks over to the bed and perches on the edge, hands flat on the mattress as he keeps plenty of daylight between him and Rachel. “It totally _is_. Shit. This is gonna go down on the ‘Things I Did Wrong This Week’ list.” He looks to Kurt. “C’mon, I’ve been  _trying_. I watched ‘Scandal’ with you guys and said  _nothing  _about that chick’s boobs. I ate a  _tofu scramble_. Okay, so I pretty much ate it ‘cause I was hungry after I got lost on my morning run and forgot to get eggs on the way home, but --” He shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve been  _trying_. You know? I always _try_ , and now you just...” He places his head in his hands, and mutters, “I really shouldn’t  _wanna  _try. Not this. Not at  _all_.”

Kurt watches Rachel place one hand on Finn’s shoulder. He’s aware he’s not uttered a word of his own in minutes, and it’s likely only adding to what is clearly his brother about to have a psychotic break, but he’s unsure what he  _can  _say. Finn always wants Kurt to say the right thing, but Kurt’s not sure if there is a right thing.

“It’s actually the ‘Things  _We  _Did Wrong List,” Rachel says.

“See? I’m so  _bad_  at this! I suck!” Finn whines, shaking his head. “I suck more than... than something really  _sucky_.”

“It’s okay, Finn,” Kurt says, pragmatic. He can do pragmatic. He offers Finn what he hopes is a genuine smile. “It’s really not a problem. The pamphlets I’ve read all say curiosity is very normal.”

“Really?” Finn looks up with wide, wide eyes and leans a little closer into Rachel’s touch. Kurt could swear the corners of his eyes were a little damp, but it’s probably just a trick of the light. Finn’s always been one to mope around like a sack of wilted vegetables, but he’s never been much of a crier. “So you’re not mad at me? For being...” Finn’s voice trails off, and he stares back at the floor.

“No. I’m not mad,” Kurt says, and he walks over to the bed, crouching down a little so he can wrap his arms around Finn’s chest. Finn responds in kind, pulling their bodies together. It’s comforting, and it’s nothing different from the scores of times they’ve hugged before over every disappointment they’ve ever faced from getting rejected from college, to washing out of the army, to NBC’s awful coverage of figure skating.

It seems to do the trick, as when he pulls away, Finn offers him a dopey, lopsided grin. “Oh. Good,” he says. “‘Cause I’m not mad about what went down with you and Rach.”

Kurt laughs at him. “I know. I figured that before I even started to make out with your," he makes air quotes, "future wife."

The look Finn gives him isn’t one he’s seen often. Kurt remembers seeing it a lot during the time when Finn was scheming during ‘Duets’ week, and even more when he was sneaking around with Santana about Brody Weston’s real source of income. It’s dark, and dangerous, and a little carnal if Rachel’s quickening breath is anything to go by. When anything happens beneath the surface, Finn can switch from playing the role other people expect him to, to having his own agenda with alarming speed. Finn bites down on his lip, and looks to Rachel, whose hand is inching up her boyfriend’s thigh, and it’s probably a good job that Finn’s shirt is loose enough for him not to see exactly where that hand is heading.

“Hey, Kurt?” Finn actually  _smirks_ at him. “Have you, uh. Have you actually  _written  _this play yet?”

“I --” Kurt starts, then looks down at the bedsheets.

“So that’s a big fat no then,” Finn says, shooting them a grin.

“It’s a hypothetical play!” Rachel says.

Kurt rolls his eyes at her. “Give it up, diva.”

Finn raises an eyebrow. “Her boobs are pretty awesome, huh.”

Nodding, Kurt looks at her with a smile. “It was an... interesting experience.”

“Well yeah, her boobs  _are  _pretty awesome,” Finn says, and that’s very clearly  _not  _crying in his eyes, but actually more of a sparkle. “And, dude, you only got an over-the-shirt. When you get to go  _under_ , it’s like...” He nods, and turns his head to meet Rachel’s expression and makes a crude gesture towards his own chest. “Damn. I always wanna touch ‘em.”

“Touch them, then,” Rachel says. “Touch me.”

“Oh. Uh, okay?” Finn says, but his smile flits back to lopsided. It’s a little more familiar, and a little less easy. He clenches his fist, and shakes his head. “Uh, no. I don’t think this is okay.”

“It really  _isn’t_ ,” Kurt informs him. He should really gather up his phone, and the remains of his glass of water, and take an early night. Watch ‘Kim of Queens’ reruns. Start his skincare routine. Let his brother and best friend do... what he knows they do, and -- dear sweet Lord -- he knows  _how  _they do it, now.

Rachel looks Kurt straight in the eyes and reaches for Finn’s hand, placing it against her chest. Finn’s mouth opens in an  _oh_ , and he shakes his head, looking down at his palm. Finn’s cheeks are a little flushed, and his hair’s a little sweat-sticky at the top of his forehead. When he cups Rachel’s breast, he smiles at her. She was right. He  _is  _gentle. She moans lightly in response to the touch, eyes closing a little as Finn’s hand strokes slow circles against her, his other on her hip. Her hand remains on his thigh.

It’s not uncomfortable for Kurt to watch, because it’s nothing new. Kurt’s walked in on them before, as has pretty much everyone else he knows. The difference is, they always seemed rushed. Frantic, and clumsy, breaking apart in giggles professing they’re more embarrassed than they actually  _are_. This, though, is languid as caramel dripping from a warm spoon as Finn moves in to kiss her, his tongue visible as it licks at the part of her lips before he pulls away.

“Isn’t she beautiful, Kurt?” Finn says, reaching for the elastic holding Rachel’s hair in place and untying her ponytail. Her silky hair falls softly on her shoulders like a wave, Finn tucking it behind her ear.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I know,” Kurt says. “But. I think I should --” he starts, but his throat feels like it’s being squeezed shut when Finn meets Kurt’s gaze before he leans in to kiss Rachel again.

Finn’s  expressions are numerous, and more familiar than the back of the cereal box they both stare blearily at over breakfast each morning. Kurt cannot figure this out though. There’s nothing familiar about watching Finn’s hands skim the hem of Rachel’s nightshirt, about watching his expression grow hungry and wanting while Rachel says his name like it’s poetry.

“I’ll see you two in the morning,” Kurt says, retrieving his phone from the bedside table and walking over to the door. He’s got as far as having one hand on the doorknob when he hears Rachel’s voice.

“Stay with us, Kurt,” she says, clear as a brand new bell. “Stay.”

Kurt turns around. “But --” he starts, then shakes his head.

“Please. We want you to --” Rachel gasps as Finn’s hand disappears under her nightdress, exposing more of her bare thigh. Kurt can see the edge of her panties; they’re white, boy-cut with small yellow stars on them. For some reason, this is both reassuring as well as slightly incongruent with the horny succubus that was on display earlier, but it makes a bolt of fire shoot down his spine all the same.

Kurt looks to Finn. “ _We_?” he says. Finn nods. “What do  _you  _want?”

Finn’s lips slide from where they’re licking at Rachel’s neck as he turns to look at Kurt. His deer-in-headlights look would be adorable if it wasn’t for the fact that the tips of his fingers are sliding under the edge of Rachel’s underwear. His cheeks are splotchy, and he widens his eyes as his chest heaves erratically. Kurt knows his own eyes are widening in response.

“What do you want?” Kurt repeats. He sets his phone back down on the desk, and walks over to the bed, placing his hand on Rachel’s shoulder.

“He wants us  _both_.”

“Is that what you want, Finn?” Kurt asks, placing his other hand on Finn’s back; his shirt is clammy, fabric close against his skin.

“I...” Finn shakes his head. “I don’t... I don’t really know.”

“Tell him,” Rachel says, looking at the pair of them. Then, she licks her lips. “Or would you rather show him? Show  _us_?”

Still shaking his head, Finn’s flush spreads a little, barely covering the scatter of freckles across his face. He closes his eyes and leans in, letting Rachel kiss him hard, falling back on the bed which sags under his weight. Rachel slides her hands underneath his shirt as she crawls on top of him, kissing at his jaw. His hands reach for her ass, sliding up her nightshirt so it’s bunched at the small of her back. They both groan, and it’s like nothing Kurt's ever heard in his life, and he could slip out of the room right now and call it a night. He could. He really could. Being in Glee for four years has prepared him for repressing all kinds of embarrassment.

None of that happens, though.

Rachel pulls at the hem of Finn’s shirt tugging it up and off. Kurt tracks the movement with his eyes, taking in the strong muscles working under smooth, pale skin. Barely missing a beat, Finn rolls Rachel over. Kurt can see Finn's abs clenching just below the base of his ribs, and his eyes work on their own accord to follow the trail of light brown hair that leads to the inseam of Finn’s pajama pants, and  _holy fuck_ , Kurt can’t hold back his needy whimper at the thick line of Finn’s dick that's hard and solid, stretching obscenely against the fabric.

Rachel looks up at Kurt. "Doesn't he have lovely arms?"

Kurt nods. "He has a lovely everything."

"I -- I do?"

"Mmhm," Kurt says, his breath rushing out as he presses his palm down on his own erection.

"Cool," Finn says, succinctly. Finn looks up, his cheeks red, his chest heaving. "Take 'em off," he mumbles, his eyes fixed on Kurt's palm.

It's fair. Kurt's the only person who doesn’t have some skin on display, but Finn's voice isn't meek, or shy, and it just does something to him. He wants. But It feels like the breath is knocked out of him, and he wishes he could splash some cold water on his face, or snap an elastic band against his wrist, or do any of the grounding actions his counselor told him about when he had moments of flight or fight like this.

He can’t, though, because he’s drawn to Finn’s legs which pin Rachel in place, and Finn’s fingers which deftly unbutton her nightshirt. Given how slender Rachel is, Finn's body covers most of hers, but Finn’s bunched her nightshirt up so it rests just below her breasts, running his hand up and down the line of her back as they kiss. Slow, deep, and lost in each other. Kurt’s aware of how warm Finn’s body temperature is from the times they’ve hugged through clothing. It must be igniting Rachel, from her long thick eyelashes to her delicate, pink-painted toenails. Rachel and Finn are curling around and against each other, and Kurt finds himself looking at  _Rachel  _when she writhes on top of Finn. Her skin is evenly tanned and looks smooth, honeyed in the room’s dim light.

“Sorry,” Rachel says, looking over her shoulder at Kurt. She turns her head back around and giggles as Finn whispers something in her ear. “We got a little carried away.”

“Yeah.” Finn’s voice is casual as he shoots Kurt a lopsided grin, like Kurt’s passing him a dish of potatoes during a family dinner. “ _I’m_  not sorry, though. She makes it way too easy to get carried away.”

“Come and join us,” Rachel says. “Kurt. Please. We want you. Please.”

Taking a deep breath, Kurt unbuttons his pajama top and places it on the back of the desk chair, leaving him in his undershirt and pajama pants. He sits on the bed, the mattress swaying under his weight as he moves so he’s on Rachel’s side, leaving Finn and Rachel next to each other. From this angle, he can see a lot more of Rachel Berry than he thought he would ever want to as she grasps the hem of her nightshirt and pulls it clearly over her head. Finn’s eyes fly open at the gesture, and Kurt can’t really blame him. She’s slender; a little boyish, with narrow hips and firm breasts that are pushed up high on her chest by the bra she’s wearing which matches her panties. There are a few dark moles marking her skin, but there’s not a single imperfection on her body.

“God, you’re so hot,” Finn says, skimming his hand up Rachel’s side then sweeping it back so it settles on the barely-there dip of her waist. The expression he graces her with is utterly reverential, and for a moment Kurt feels like he’s disappeared from their consideration completely until Finn looks at him and smiles in a way that melds their hearts together. “Hey, Kurt. you really filled out this summer,” he says, and then reaches his hand over, exhaling before placing it on Kurt’s shoulder sliding it down before giving his bicep a squeeze, moving to squeeze his hand. “You wanna show me what you can do with these?”

Minutely, Kurt nods. He reaches across Rachel to play with the soft hair just behind Finn’s ear, and it’s something that in theory should be so difficult, but it feels so easy, so right. Rachel's chest is rising so quickly that Kurt’s surprised her heartbeat's not audible, and he looks at Finn who isn’t looking at Rachel. Instead, Kurt watches his arm move, sliding up the edge of Rachel’s thigh until he’s biting down on his lip.

“Do it,” Kurt tells him, biting back a groan, and Finn slides one finger slowly up the fabric of her panties.

Rachel's eyes close, and her toes clench. She leans towards Kurt until she’s close enough for Kurt to feel her humid breath against his jaw. Her eyelashes begin to flutter and she softly groans up, kissing Kurt’s cheek.

“Mm. That’s so good, Finn, so good,” Rachel says, quietly. “Didn’t I tell you he was gentle?” She pauses. “You can ask him, you know. You can ask him for what he wants.”

“Finn?”

"Yea?"

“What would  _you  _like?” Kurt asks in return, because while it’s a straightforward question that Kurt would find easy to answer, he knows that there’s a difference between Finn being curious about a boy, and Finn wanting to act on it with  _him_ , with his  _family_ , with the boy he calls  _dude  _and  _bro  _and fights over the last of the pot roast with. With his freaking  _brother_ , and why the hell doesn’t Kurt feel guilty about that; why the hell does it turn him on?

“Mm, you should kiss him,” Rachel says. She smirks. "He's so, so good at that."

Kurt looks down the bed and can see the movement of Finn’s arm, the rhythm steady. It’s typical of Rachel to want to direct the proceedings, and more than typical of her to be a little selfish. “I wasn’t asking  _you_ ,” he says, and the moment he locks eyes with Finn, Finn’s movement stills causing Rachel to whine in the back of her throat and turn her head to glare at Kurt. Kurt shrugs one shoulder as he moves their joined hands onto Rachel’s body, finding Finn’s hand to force contact between the three of them.

“Can I kiss you, Finn?” Kurt asks.

“You're not dating that British guy, right?” Finn whistles through his teeth. “Because he might be all James Bond sneaky and find out, and I don’t think I could rock a black eye.”

“You think I’m dating  _Adam_?” Kurt rolls his eyes, and Finn laughs. “I’m not. Nor do I intend to be,” he says, tempted to mention that Finn  could rock a black eye. The man looked hot in his pink Hall & Oates outfit, and could pretty much rock anything. "I'm not seeing anyone."

“Good,” Finn grins. “Yeah. That’s good.”

The admission makes Kurt grin back, because this is  _real_. Oh my god, this is  so real. He’s going to kiss Finn. He  _can  _kiss FInn. So he allows himself to look,  _really  _look, for the first time. Finn had gone for a run and then had a shower before Kurt had put the movie on earlier, and he’s got a serious case of the bed head. Not many people realise Finn’s hair’s naturally a little wavy. It still looks a little damp. Kurt wants to smell it, stroke the tiny tendril of curl just behind Finn’s ear. Run the pad of his thumb across the scatter of stubble on Finn’s face, and compare it to the soft-looking skin just above his defined cheekbones, and the chapped, drier skin on his lips. Kurt just wants, and he wants  _everything_ , and then  _more_ , but he’ll honestly take whatever Rachel allows Finn to give him right now.

“Damn, you two look ... you look real good together,” Finn whistles out through his lips. He grins. “Uh, yeah. I think you should take those off, Rach.”

Brazen, Rachel lifts her hips and takes off her panties, and they end up thrown on the floor, She’s still wearing her bra. Maybe the pair of them think an actual, real life boob would freak him out? Whatever. He’s seen ‘Orange is the New Black’. Kurt Hummel is more than prepared for lady parts.

“That too, Rachel,” Kurt says, tracing the strap of her bra with his finger.She leans forward and allows Kurt to neatly undo the clasp. Kurt reaches up to slide one strap off her shoulders, while Finn obliges with the other side.

"Huh. Have... have you done that before?" Finn sort of squints at him.

"No." Kurt pokes him. "We're not  _all_ naturally clumsy."

"No way. There is no  _way  _anyone’s that smooth. Do you, like,  _have  _one? For dress-up?

"No, Finn, but I'm starting to want to gag you with my imaginary bra if you don't either _shut up_ or do something  else with your mouth," Kurt says, moving his hand over Rachel's bare breast, tweaking a nipple.

"Yeah, right. I bet you have, like, _hundreds_ of --" Finn's cut off by the gasp Rachel makes when Kurt pinches her nipple.

"Rachel doesn't want to hear this," Kurt says. “She really doesn’t.”

"Actually ..." Rachel looks left to smile at Kurt, then arches her back. "I... _oh_ , I .. Mmm. I  like your petty squabbles."

Kurt really doesn't want to think about the implications of _that_. Finn tosses Rachel's bra on the floor and it joins the discard of clothing, and somehow, he’s noticed Finn’s taken off his pajama pants and he’s left in his underwear, a pair of Adventure Time boxer briefs that even  he can’t quite make look sexy. Kurt feels suddenly, terrifyingly overdressed. It sinks in that his best friend is relaxed between the pair of them, completely naked; Finn looks perfectly comfortable with this, sweeping a strand of hair from the side of her face and smiling. He’s entranced, and Kurt can’t blame him; she really is beautiful. Taking a deep breath, Kurt leans across to kiss her and places his hand on her flat stomach, skimming it up until he can feel the indent and curve of her ribs.

“Can I?” Kurt asks, and when Rachel and Finn both nod, he slides his palm down, until he feels the dip of Rachel’s navel and rests it over the dent of her hipbone, his fingers long enough to feel the edges of her bikini line, and she’s warm, almost unbelievably warm under his touch.

“Kurt,” Rachel gasps against the wet sounds of Finn licking at her jaw. “Don’t -- don’t be a tease.” He looks up and sees her eyes are closed, one of her hands clenching in the sheets. “Touch me.”

It’s pure, bossy Rachel. Kurt takes a deep breath and presses his hand down, the heel of his palm over where he  _thinks  _her clit is; he honestly has no idea, but it seems to work as she groans low in her throat, baring the tanned skin of her neck to Finn who presses quick kisses against it. Finn breaks away quickly to look at Kurt, licking his lips.

“You like that, Rach?” Finn grabs at a fistful of her hair, gently enough to bare the line of her neck a little more. “Yeah. Mm, yeah, you do. Tell him how you like it. Tell him how you like his hands on you,” he says, lower and deeper than anything Kurt’s heard him say before. “Tell him what you want.”

Kurt shifts so he’s kissing Rachel’s shoulder, his hand stilling. She’s rolling her hips up, and groaning, and he presses down with the heel of his palm again, still unsure.

“Kurt. You gotta...” Finn groans. “Why don’t you stroke her, and let me use my fingers?”

“ _Anything_ ,” Rachel breaths out. She squirms, Kurt’s hand slipping up a little with the movement. “Oh, please, anything.”

“Mm, yeah, you got it,” Finn says, and Kurt groans when a large, rough palm covers his. Finn’s fingers interlace with his, and push his hand down further between Rachel’s thighs, right over the slick, silky skin of her opening. When Kurt looks at Rachel, her eyes are wide, and he realizes that his own probably are, too. “Here, I’ll -- just use, like, the tips of your fingers,” Finn says, reaching for Kurt’s hand, sliding it so two of Kurt’s fingers rest right at the top of her opening, resting just to the side of her clit.

There’s a sharp gasp from Rachel, and Kurt looks down. Her toes are clenching. He looks back up and can’t help but groan in response at how she’s biting down on her lip, her hair cascading across the pillow. He rubs his finger gently, and it slips across on its own accord because she’s so wet, and it has to be okay. It has to be. Rachel would have no reservations telling him if it wasn’t, but Kurt’s still not quite sure about, well,  _anything_.

“Kiss her,” Finn sort of demands, and Kurt raises an eyebrow at that, looking towards him. His own hand’s on Rachel’s inner thigh at the moment, almost like he’s the one that’s unsure, even though he’s probably done this countless times before, and --  _oh_  -- Kurt can feel the movement of Finn’s hand himself, long fingers brushing up against his, then he can hear it, a wet noise he can’t put a name to, as he slides his finger in all the way to the knuckle.

 _Someone can’t multitask_ , Kurt thinks.  _Typical boy_.

“Kurt,” Rachel says, sharp. “Kiss me.”

Leaning in, Kurt slides his tongue against the sweat-damp skin of Rachel’s neck. It’s humid, and she moans lightly. He repeats the motion, then takes a little skin between his teeth, tugging it gently. He’s rewarded with a throatier moan, and  _fuck it_. Screw being cautious. Everyone who knows Rachel knows that her long-term boyfriend’s just moved in with her after three years of long-distance dating in Ohio and nobody will blame  _him_. He sucks down hard, laving against the skin there with his tongue; he  knows it’s going to bruise. He _wants_ it to bruise.

“No. No, on my...” Rachel gasps again. Kurt pulls away from her neck with an obscene sucking noise, seeing his own saliva, a light bruise forming on her skin. His cock twitches, his other hand grasping for something to hold on to, and he’s not used to having a Rachel who’s not able to ask for what she wants. “My ...” Rachel groans, sounding utterly helpless.

“What, babe?” Finn doesn’t look up, and Kurt can still hear him move his hand, the wet noises seeming to echo off the walls.

“My... my breasts,” Rachel says, quietly.

“Yeah? You want Kurt to do that?” Finn says, but the tone indicates he wishes he were in Kurt’s place.

“Why don’t  _you_?” Kurt says. It comes out a little more aggressive than he’d intended.

Finn responds with a grunt. Rachel’s mouth is hanging wide open, her chest heaving erratically, and Kurt keeps up the movement of his hand on Rachel, then looks towards Finn. His eyebrows are furrowed as he moves his hand harder, faster; he’s trying not to feel too guilty for looking at Finn when it’s  _Rachel  _they’re meant to be focusing on, but whatever. He’s been wondering if that  _oh-faced_  expression he saw this one time in the locker rooms means Finn Hudson is about to cream his pants since he was fifteen. Tentatively, he shifts position a little so he can stroke Rachel’s chest with his free hand. He skims his fingertips across the soft skin he finds there, and her nipples harden as he brushes over them. They look dark and dusky against her firm, small breasts.

“Harder!” Rachel says, huffing out a breath. “Finn, show him.”

“Yeah, sure,” Finn mutters, and when Kurt looks at him, he looks as determined as when he’s doing a particularly fast drum solo. His smile is a little sly, like the one he offers Kurt when he manages to get control of the remote. “Kurt, you wanna do something else with your hands?”

When Kurt was younger, he was always fascinated by the box of home movies in their attic. The handwritten labels didn’t really tell you what you’d actually find. Finn, Kurt supposes, is the same way. Everyone tries to put a label on him, but sometimes what you find is completely different. Not missing a beat, Finn shifts down the bed and crawls over Rachel. Immediately, he takes her nipple in his mouth, Kurt’s mouth flying open as he tugs up the flesh with force, and the skin around her breast rises with it. The movement of his fingers is nothing much more than a blur, and Kurt decides to just go with it, letting Finn take over while he watches the pair of them.

“Mm,  _harder_ ,” Rachel says, her toes curling and her hands grasping into the creamy skin of Finn’s back, reaching up to slide through his hair. “Harder.”

Kurt’s just watching, watching and waiting. He’s trying not to hope too much, because they  _invited_ him, and he’s just a bystander. He doesn’t want to push Finn too far; he wants Finn to figure out what he wants from Kurt on his own terms. Taking a deep breath, he loosely places his hand around Finn’s bicep, feeling the muscles flex. He then moves his arm around Rachel’s waist, tugging her closer, and the movement pulls Rachel flush against him, the friction against his cock more than welcome. He’s just testing the waters, really -- and isn’t that a stupid phrase? They’re both touching Rachel, in their own ways, but Finn’s looking up at  _him_ , and Rachel’s looking across at him, and his clothed dick’s sliding into the curve of Rachel’s ass, finding the heat there more than welcome.

“You feel so good,” Finn says. “So warm. So  _wet_. Kurt, man. You gotta ...”

“Gotta  _what_?” Kurt sort of snarks at him. It would be effectively snippy were it not for the throaty groan that punctuates the statement as Rachel wiggles back against him.

“Gotta feel her,” Finn says.

Kurt does. Rachel whines when Finn removes his hand and pulls her flush against him, their bodies close enough for Finn to kiss at her neck. Taking a deep breath, Kurt kneels up, and removes his undershirt, throwing it on the floor. He doesn’t miss how Rachel’s eyes fly open, and her hand grasps out to palm at his chest. Moving down the bed a little, he watches Rachel lift her hips and keeps eye contact with her as he slides two of his fingers right inside her.

“How’s she feel?”

“Really, uh...” Kurt pauses, trying to adjust to this new reality. “You feel really good,” he says. It’s wetter than he’d expected, and the flesh he feels is a little rough around the pads of his fingers. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” Rachel says, then groans as Kurt presses his fingers up a little.

Kurt’s not truly altruistic, because he’s thinking she feels good, but he’s also thinking how different it is from using his fingers on a boy. He’s thinking what Finn would make of touching Kurt like this for the first time, whether he’d be gentle and tentative or just go for it, instinctively knowing how Kurt loves it just as hard as Rachel seems to. Kurt groans, moving his other hand down to squeeze at his crotch because he needs  _something_ , and if Rachel thinks he’s all about  _her  _right now, he’s okay with letting her.

“Oh  _god_ , that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Finn says. He’s sort of grinding against Rachel, his finger moving against her clit. His biceps flex beautifully as his hand moves. “You gonna come for us like that?”

Rachel nods, and Kurt feels a rush of wetness against his fingers.

“So open,” Finn says, and Kurt can’t quite come to terms with the fact it’s  _Finn  _who’s the talker. “Kurt, you think she can take another?”

Kurt’s eyes flicker between the pair of them. Rachel’s making quiet  _mmm  _noises under her breath, arching into Finn’s, into  _their  _touch. Her chest is flushed, the blush spreading like a sunrise through a clear sky. One of her hands is tangled in her own hair which is still fanned out against the pillow, and her other hand is flat on her own breast. It’s hot as hell, and Kurt decides to just roll with it rather than trying to think about what it means, sliding a third finger inside her. When Rachel gasps loudly, he wonders if it’s maybe  _too  _much.

“Don’t stop, don’t you  _dare  _stop,” Rachel says, her hand grasping at his head.

“Oh  _god_ ,” Kurt says. He’s not really sure what else he can say, his fingers pumping harder as he meets Finn’s expression, and then looks down, Finn’s thumb pressing down on her clit and rubbing what look like hard, quick circles.

“Kurt.  _Finn_. Don’t stop,” Rachel repeats, looking at him with such intensity and need she’s not even blinking. “Please, please, I’m --”

Finn reaches around to pinch Rachel’s nipple hard, then kneads at the firm swell of her breast. They’re fucking her, together, Kurt with three fingers, finding that she’s stretching beautifully around him, and Finn’s rubbing at her with his fingers not much more than a blur, making low, stupid little grunts. Kurt wills himself to focus on his best friend, but the contrast between her darker, tinier body and Finn’s paler skin is incredible, and his eyes are drawn to the flex of Finn’s biceps, to his strong, broad back. When Kurt pulls his fingers out before slamming them back in, he can see her slickness there, and could he taste her? Would Finn be mad at him if he asked for that? It really doesn’t seem that strange a prospect, now; it’s not like he’ll get a chance again, is it?

Without warning either of them, Rachel makes a sort of shriek. Her back arches and her hips break free of the bed. Her body turns towards Kurt and she pulls his head down into a kiss, hands clutching at his shoulders as Kurt can feel her pulsing, contracting around his fingers. Kurt knows she has a flair for the dramatic, but there’s nothing fake about this. She bites hard at his lip, then loosely, and breaks away, falling back against the pillows. Finn’s curled beside her again, stroking her hair which is in complete disarray against her forehead, which is covered with a light sheen of sweat.

“Mmm,” she says, eyes closed. She giggles a little when Kurt traces the side of her calf with his toes.

Finn raises an eyebrow from over her shoulder. “Good?” he says, flashing Kurt a grin. He looks like the cat who got the whole entire dairy, and traces his fingertips across the dip of Rachel’s waist.

“Finn. Stop.” Rachel bats his hand away. “You know I’m sensitive when I ...”

“That’s kinda why I  _did  _it,” Finn says, then bites down on his lip. “You are seriously so beautiful, Rachel.”

“Hm.” Kurt’s tempted to quiz her on the finer intricacies, because he thought girls didn’t have those sort of refractory issues. He’s still turned on, though. His fingers feel unpleasantly cold when he removes them from Rachel, and he examines his hand, which is covered with evidence of her arousal. “I need to wash --”

“Let me,” Finn tells him. He’s sort of rubbing his body against Rachel.

Wordlessly, Kurt offers Finn his hand, and ... oh _fuck_. His warm, wet mouth is moving for his fingers, sucking them in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing, and it’s clear Finn’s turned on by this, as he’s moaning around Kurt’s hand, and it’s simultaneously horrific and mindblowing and Kurt reaches over, his thumb and finger grabbing Finn’s wrist to stop it in its tracks.

“Mm, you should taste her.” Finn licks his lips. “You want me to go down on you, Rach?”

“No. Thank you.” Rachel beams at the pair of them, utterly sated, looking at Finn with such adoration that Kurt feels like an intruder. She turns to Kurt, looking at him with a different kind of love. “I’m quite satisfied. What would the pair of  _you  _like?”

“Rachel,” Kurt grits out, wiping off his hand on the sheets. “We’re not a package deal.”

Finn sort of smiles at him, but looks a little helpless. He looks down at his crotch, then back up at Kurt, and makes a sort of helpless gesture with his hand, waving it around. It’s pretty clear that he didn’t think this would  _happen_ , and at least he’s being honest about the fact he has no clue what to do next. Kurt has no clue, either, so it’s actually rather reassuring.

“Why don’t you kiss him?” Rachel says. It’s as though she’s asking him to pass a bowl of popcorn, not lock lips with a guy who’s actually  _family_. “He’s a very good kisser.”

“I’m, ah...” Finn flushes, high on his cheeks. “I’m sure he is.”

“You do  _want  _to kiss him, don’t you?” Rachel says. If she were stood up, Kurt’s pretty sure her hands would be on her hips.

“It’s okay.” Kurt smiles at Finn, knowing his nerves are coming across. “It’s okay, Finn.”

“He wants you to --” Rachel winces at Kurt pinches at her hip. “ _Ow_! ”

Kurt rolls his eyes at her. He smiles, a little more sure, placing his hand on Finn’s shoulder. Finn shivers a little, biting down on his lip and then looks away. “It’s okay,” he repeats. “If you’re not ... if you don’t want  _this_ , we can just watch another movie. Or I can go back to my own room. It’s really okay,” he says, hoping Finn’s not in one of those mind-reading moods and doesn’t pick up on the fact Kurt is a shitty liar. “If I can watch those SyFy original films you like without a steady supply of booze, I think I can cope with this.”

Finn shakes his head. “I want ...” he starts, then shakes his head again. “I don’t want you to leave,” he says, so very quietly.

“That’s good,” Kurt says, then exhales. It’s strange trying to reconcile this with Finn when he was so open, almost  _primal_ , when he was touching Rachel. “I don’t _want_ to leave. Earlier, you said you wanted to kiss me. Is that still something you’d like?”

“Yeah.” Finn nods. “I think we’re ...” he gestures down to where his lower body’s still clothed. “I think you should take these off, then get under the sheets.”

Kurt gets it. Finn’s always had hang-ups about his body, and it’s startlingly clear that he wants, but he doesn’t feel like he deserves, and he’s not used to asking for what he wants when Rachel Berry is there to do the talking for him.Kurt rolls over and pushes himself off the bed, and places his thumbs in the waistband of his pajama pants. Finn’s shooting him this silly little lopsided smile, and Rachel’s cuddled against him, rubbing at the soft hair at the back of his head. Kurt takes a deep breath and bends down, stepping out of his nightclothes until he’s completely naked, and if he’s honest, more than a little cold.

“Doesn’t he look incredible?” Rachel says, her eyes tracing down to Kurt’s erection, which if Kurt’s honest is pretty full and aching.  _Pervert_ , he thinks.

Finn nods. “You look _so good_ ,” he says, voice breathy and shaky. “So good,” he repeats, honestly appearing a little dazed. His hands shift a little below the sheets and soon he extracts a bundle of clothes which he promptly throws halfway across the room. The sheets hug the line of his erection. Rachel kisses the side of Finn’s neck with slow, soft kisses and it seems to relax him as his eyes fall shut and his smile returns.  

“Tired?” Kurt says.

“Relaxed, I think,” Finn says, his voice still sounding a little sleepy; he’s giving off such a beautiful smile that it makes Kurt’s chest flutter. “C’mere, Kurt,” he says, folding back the corner of the sheets.

Taking a deep breath, Kurt strides over to the bed and slides in. He turns onto his side and faces Finn, almost nose-to-nose. He licks his lips. He can’t stop feeling guilty. He’s been thinking about this since he’s fifteen -- he’s only been thinking about  _Rachel  _like this since this evening. The irony is, if Kurt _hadn’t_ been thinking about this when he was fifteen, he doubts he’d be living with his best friend and her boyfriend now. Quickly, he presses his lips against Finn’s. The kiss is dry, and not unpleasant, but it’s a little  awkward. Kurt shakes his head as he pulls away, because his stupid brain just won’t  _shut up_.

“Kurt?” Finn’s eyebrows are scrunched together, and he’s pouting with his bottom lip. “Is it -- am I doing it _wrong_?”

Kurt shakes his head. He’ll need to deal with what his means about him, about the three of them later. His heart seems to develop some sort of fissure as Finn looks down at his chest and makes a sad sort of whimper.

“It’s because ....” Finn sighs. “I know I’m not exactly ripped,” Finn mutters. Kurt’s surprised at the resentment and jealousy that crawls through his voice. “I bet you’re used to abs, and CW hair, and bubble butts, and ...”

“Don’t even think about comparing yourself,” Kurt says. “You’re incredible.”

“And, I mean ...” Finn exhales. “My body’s just ... I dunno. Next to you two I sort of feel like Bigfoot or something.”

“Finn,” Rachel speaks crisply, her tiny hand braced on Finn’s chest. “You’re both very different.”

“Is that a good thing?” Finn asks, so unsure, Rachel’s expression indicating that she’s given her boyfriend all the reassurance in the world but hasn’t been able to convince him otherwise.

“Finn?” Kurt says.

“Yeah?”

“You’re  _gorgeous_.” Kurt smiles at him, knowing he can say it now, and the words come out so easily they shock him. “I’m hard from you, just  watching you, hearing your breathy little moans earlier. You have strong arms, and eyes that aren’t  _boring brown_ , and a smile that actually -- literally -- makes my knees weak. When I first saw you, I thought you were the cutest guy I’d ever seen. Getting to  _know  _you? You mean more to me than any other boy does, Finn. You always  _have_.”

Without warning, Finn’s hand moves to Kurt’s waist and he’s tilting his head, scattering kisses across Kurt’s shoulder, his jaw, and everywhere he can reach. Kurt feels like he can feel Finn  _everywhere_ , and when he cups Kurt’s cheek with his hand his touch is so light and gentle that Kurt settles into it with a sigh. His thumb traces Kurt’s cheekbone, and his face seems to glow as he moves in for a slow kiss, Kurt pouring every emotion he has into the gentle press of his lips.

“Aren’t you going to tell Kurt how  _he  _looks?” Rachel says.

“Rachel. It’s okay. I’m ... we’re good.”

“Mm.” Finn kisses the corner of Kurt’s mouth. “You’re incredible.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow at him. “I am?”

“Yeah.” Finn traces a fingertip from Kurt’s eyebrow, sweeping across and then down the side of Kurt’s face. “Your skin’s so soft, and I don’t even have a color to say what your eyes are, but they’re like these opal earrings my mom has.” He touches the tip of Kurt’s nose. “It’s like someone sculpted you, from some material, like you’re too perfect to be  _real_.”

“How --” Kurt starts. “When?” he says, his eyes opening wide, taking in the fact that this is something they’re going to have to talk about, and while now it’s the right time, he has to know.

“I’ve known for a while,” Rachel says, gently. “I’ve known he loves you, and I love you, too. I’m sorry if I’ve seen the love between you as a threat, because it’s -- ”

Finn’s palm is on Kurt’s chest. “There’s plenty of space for both of us in here, I figured.” Finn looks to Rachel. “We figured. It’s awesome you let me in, because you don’t let many people see  _you_ , you know?”

“Oh.” Kurt doesn’t quite know what to say to that. So, he looks into Finn’s wide, trusting eyes, and nods imperceptibly at him, letting his eyes fall closed. He groans the moment Finn presses butterfly kisses against his face and never, in a million evers, did he imagine  _that_. He can feel the emotion between them, and realizes actions speak louder than words, so he reaches down for Finn’s ass and gives it a squeeze, bringing their bodies together.

At the movement, Finn moans, and winds his long leg between Kurt’s thighs. His mouth opens into a wide  _oh  _and he looks like Christmas has come early. “Oh my god,” he starts, his free hand clenched in the sheets.

Kurt giggles at him, shifting a little so he can grind on Finn’s thigh. “Yes?”

“How in the  _hell_  do you fit  _that  _into those pants you wear?”

When he looks at Rachel, she looks a mixture of scandalized and intrigued.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Kurt says. He reaches a hand to tug at Finn’s hair. It’s so soft, so unlike the gelled-down curls of Blaine’s he became used to. It’s nice to run his hands through without them getting sticky with product.

“I thought he  _was  _kissing you?” Rachel says.

“Nah. I think he means ...” Finn’s looking at him with a smile that makes him dizzy down to the tips of his toes. He gently rolls Kurt over so Kurt’s on his back, and crawls on top of him. “Can I?” he says, but he’s already cupping Kurt’s face in his hands, knowing the answer.

Kurt nods, then closes his eyes. He feels a cloud of warm breath hit his cheek, then there’s a dry kiss placed against the corner of his smile, and Finn’s lips slide across his cheek and then press at Kurt’s own lips while his thumbs rub slow circles at Kurt’s hairline. It’s wet, and deep, and Kurt’s had a few first kisses in his time: his first with a girl, and his first with a boy. Then, his first kiss that  _counted_ , and he’ll always treasure the desperate, slightly clumsy fumble with Blaine. This is incomparable, though. It’s gentle and confident, and makes him feel precious; valuable, even.  His stomach’s tensing like he’s at the top of a roller-coaster before a long drop, and that drop happens when they break apart and Finn flashes him a lazy smile.

“Wow, Kurt.” Finn licks his lips. “Can I get another?”

Finn’s easy, breezy voice lodges deep in Kurt’s bones as Kurt nods and loops his hands behind Finn’s neck, pulling their bodies flush. Finn’s hands are all over him, warm against his bare flesh, and he ends up pinning Kurt down with his hands on Kurt’s shoulders. It’s not as though Kurt would want to go anywhere, though. Kurt groans into Finn’s half-open mouth as the thick line of Finn’s cock drags roughly across his own, over and over, and Kurt wants it all, needs to feel all of him, his hands clutching at Finn harder when Finn nips at his jaw and bites at his neck.

“Touch him, Kurt.” Rachel’s lightly petting at Kurt’s shoulder. “Tell him, Finn. Tell him what you told me.”

Using his strength, Kurt rolls them over so it’s now  _Finn  _that’s underneath him. He strokes a hand across Finn’s chest, and hears Finn groan quietly. Moving his head down, he presses his lips against Finn’s chest, and immediately Finn reaches down to tug at his hair. Kurt grins around the mouthful of flesh he’s kissing. He’s determined to find each and every spot that turns Finn into a puddle. After all, Finn can do that to Kurt without even  _touching_  him. Payback, Kurt thinks as he flicks his tongue over Finn’s nipple, is only fair.

“What did you tell her,” Kurt says, looking up at him. “Hm?”

“Oh  _god_ , I ...” Finn looks away. “It’s ... it’s not gonna take much.”

“I don’t care,” Kurt sort of growls at him, and places his hand on Finn’s thigh, stilling Finn’s jitters. As he slides his hand further up, Finn’s eyes widen further, and his mouth follows suit. “ _Tell me_.”

“Your _hands_ , Kurt.” Finn says. “On me.  _In_  me, I --”

Kurt inches his hand higher, then curls his fingers a little, around Finn’s balls.

“Doesn’t he feel so good?” Rachel says, her voice as breathy as the hitch Finn makes.

“Do you  _really_  need to ask me that?” Kurt snaps at her, because it’s not like she doesn’t know.

Finn snorts, but his breath stutters further as Kurt rolls his balls in his hands, and then uses his other hand to touch Finn’s cock. Finn's cock is almost impossibly thick, and solid,  and oh so warm. He’s aware his own breathing is speeding up as he squeezes Finn’s cock, feeling it twitch in his grasp, and  _fuck_ , his mouth is actually  _watering_.

Rachel’s fingernail pokes him. “Should I help?”

“I think I can manage,” Kurt tells her, and skims his fingers along Finn’s flesh.

“Yeah, _yes_.” Finn’s biting down on his lip, nodding. “Oh my  _god  _Kurt,  _yes_ ,” he gasps, and Kurt takes that as his cue to keep at it. He runs just the tip of his finger up the shaft, reaching the slick head. Finn’s uncut, which surprises him, but also makes him wonder what it’s like to play with the skin there. He uses his grip to rub it a little, shifting down the bed until he’s between Finn’s legs, looking up at the blissed-out expression on Finn’s face.

“Rachel. Do you, ah ...” Kurt cringes a little, because this is beyond awkward in a storm of incredibly awkward things. “Do you have anything to make it a little ... smoother?”

“You could just use your mouth,” Rachel says. Kurt can imagine her tossing her hair over her shoulder. “ _I_  always do. Why don’t I --”

Kurt keeps up the movement of his wrist, shaking his head. She’s not taking over. Not  _now_ , not after all _this_. “Why don’t you get the lube, Rachel?” Kurt offers.

He’s pretty sure that Rachel has supplies because she’s always been prepared for _any_ eventuality even including surprise threesomes, and sure enough, Kurt can feel the bed dip and hear the bedside drawer creek. Soon, he feels a sharp poke and extends his hands, a blob of something cold and wet in his palm. It smells like synthetic strawberries. Biting down on his lip, Kurt gets to work. He kneels between Finn’s legs and rubs his palms together; he can hear wet noises and soft groans from where Rachel’s kissing him. He raises an eyebrow, appraising the task at hand. Kurt  knows he could be tight, and rough, and have Finn coming in his fist in mere seconds. He doesn’t want that, though; he feels he owes it to himself to make this memorable. The lube smells far too much like Victoria’s Secret, but seems to do the trick as his hand twists up the shaft with ease. Unable to resist, he leans down to flick his tongue across the wet tip.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Finn gasps, and breaks free of where Kurt’s free hand is holding his hips down. The movement causes his cock to smear a wet, fake-strawberry-scented streak across Kurt’s face. “Kurt, _Kurt_ , I need ...”

“Use your fingers,” Rachel tells him.

Kurt can’t really see her from his limited field of vision, and so holds Finn’s cock steady with his hand, sliding his lips down then sucking hard on the tip. He can feel it pulse in his mouth, a weird mixture of synthetic sweetness and Finn’s natural taste on his tongue, and he looks up to see Finn’s eyes are half closed. If Rachel says Finn loves something, she’s rarely wrong; Kurt slides a finger up the crease of Finn’s thigh, knowing that his hand’s not quite as slick as it should be for doing this, but judging by the fact Finn's making low, steady groans and clutching at Kurt’s hair, he’s close, and he’s not about to complain.

“Lift your hips,” he hears Rachel say; Kurt then feels one of Rachel’s hands on him, and Kurt thinks that if she touched his dick right now, he really wouldn’t care, but no, he hopes she _doesn’t_ because he wants  Finn’s hands there, and it’s not going to take much at all.

“Is this okay?” Kurt tells Finn, using the tip of his finger to press lightly at the puckered skin around Finn’s hole. “Finn?” he asks, aware he’s just as breathless himself.

“I ... oh my  _god_ ,” Finn says, whole body shaking. “Rach, kiss me,” he says. “Kurt, if you touch me, I’m gonna --”

Kurt slides his finger in, slowly, then places his other hand on Finn’s cock to fist him hard. He touches Finn with such force that his wrist is aching, and biting down on his own lip so hard he thinks it might split in two, but it’s _so worth it_, because Finn’s chanting his name between kisses, and Kurt watches his mouth hang wide open and his face fits into the curve of Rachel’s neck as he begins to contract around Kurt’s finger, rolling his hips up off the bed with each long pulse of his cock, and Kurt’s own cock twitches as he feels Finn’s come hit his fingers and drip down to his wrist, warm and wet. Finn’s eyes are glassy when Kurt stills his hand, his stare blank, and Kurt feels like he’s fighting to catch his own breath too.

“Damn,” Finn says, seeming to finally blink.

Rachel has her hand on her chest. She kisses the top of Finn’s forehead, then smiles down at Kurt, who’s beyond the point of caring and removes his finger. Finn makes a small whine when Kurt does, and Kurt then cringes as he wipes both his hands off on the previously-clean sheets.

“Kurt,” Finn’s looking at him with a weird mixture of curiosity and awe. “What do you _want_? What can I  _do_?”

Kurt’s aware he’s got several options, here. The polite thing to do would be to wait for Finn to get his breathing under control; he could use his mouth to get Finn hard again, or maybe see if Finn’s curious about having more than his fingers inside him. The thing is, he’s hard, and frantic, and desperate, and it’s much easier to just roll on top of Finn. He arches his back and kisses Finn whose lips take a few seconds to respond. After those seconds, Finn’s kissing hard and deep like he was earlier, rolling Kurt’s bottom lip between his teeth. Kurt’s pretty sure he could come like this, just like this, grinding against the star Quarterback. Wouldn’t _that_ be embarrassing, he thinks. It’s supposed to be  _Finn  _who has that problem, but it doesn’t seem like much of a problem now.

“N - no. Not like that,” Finn says, when their break apart. “I wanna ...” he squeezes at Kurt’s ass.

“You want to  _fuck me_?” Kurt says.

“I ... I was kinda hoping you’d do  _me_ , like _maybe not now_ , 'cause right now ...” Finn says. “You should get on your back,” he orders, and Kurt’s a little shocked to learn just how commanding that tone of voice is. “Look how hard you are.  _Shit_. You’re _perfect_.” Without preamble, Finn wraps his hand around Kurt’s dick. “Rach, isn’t he perfect?”

Kurt whimpers as Rachel nods her assent. There’s a little cool air that comes through the window, and it hits the slick skin at the tip of his cock, Finn’s hands a little clumsy and it’s definitely not the best he’s had, it’s the first time Finn’s done this to someone other than _himself_ , but it seems like he’s a fast learner, his eyes fixed on Kurt as he shifts his grip a little.

“You feel _so_ good,” Finn tells him, using his other hand to trace at Kurt’s hipbone. “You’re  amazing.”

Feeling his stomach flip and turn, Kurt feels the heat coil in his thighs, in his gut, because he’s head Finn say how good he is before, but not in _this_ way, and not meaning it like he does now. He reaches out a hand and Rachel holds it tightly, and he briefly wonders if she’s awaiting his permission for  her to touch him, but he lets it slide. It’s _Rachel_. Rachel always asks for what she wants. She’s good.

“C’mon.” Finn’s touching him perfectly, now, working with just enough friction to makes things almost-painful. “C’mon, Kurt, let go for us,” and he slides up the bed to cover Kurt’s lips with his and rubs at the head of his cock with his thumb, and Kurt’s done for. The tension melts from his body and he groans brokenly, up into Finn’s mouth as he comes, dragging his hands through Finn’s hair and pulling their bodies together as he sobs, feeling like his heart’s going to escape from his rib cage.

It could be seconds or minutes that they stay there like that, Finn’s head in the crook of his neck, and Kurt willing the air to return to his burning, heaving lungs. It’s one of the few times in his life that his brain is willingly, blissfully, silent.

“Hey,” Finn says, lifting his head. He presses a soft kiss to Kurt’s jaw, feeling Kurt’s pulse dance under his lips. “Hey, Kurt. Are you ... are you okay?”

“Oh, I am  _very  _okay,” Rachel answers.

Kurt pushes gently at Finn who then extends an arm and Rachel passes him a tissue which he uses to wipe off his hand. Rachel presses another one into Kurt’s hand, and this is probably the weirdest part of the evening _yet_ for him because it’s frighteningly, horrifyingly domestic.

“You’re welcome,” Rachel says, then takes the tissues and places them on the bedside table.

“Finn.” Kurt exhales, watching Rachel yawn. “Are  _you  _okay?”

“So okay.” Finn smiles, his voice sounding like he’s just witnessed his favorite team win some sort of tournament, or shot the hell out of Artie and Sam in one of those weird online games he plays. He yawns, too, rubbing at his eyes. “Tired now, though.”

Rachel looks to Kurt, then to Finn. “I think we've earned the right to some rest,” she says.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt can see that Rachel’s organized the bedside table in the mere seconds that Kurt’s watched Finn’s abs flex with his yawn. The box of tissues is in the center, and the tube of -- ugh, pink -- lube is next to them. There’s also a box of condoms that he hadn’t noticed before, which doesn’t really freak Kurt out; it’s more a sign that she’s perfectly prepared in every way. Even for an unexpected menage a trois, it would seem. Kurt’s not entirely sure that what just happened actually counted as a menage a trois, although his knowledge of French is good enough for him to know what menage means: a household.

Kurt considers the word, and realizes that actually? Yes, they  _are  _a household. Not exactly in the traditional sense, but really it is fitting for this who-knows-what between them. He wills himself to breathe, slow and deep, because he’s not enjoying his post-sex glow as much as Finn and Rachel appear to be doing so. Rather, panic is starting to creep in.

“Dude.” Finn’s long finger -- the one he knows feels  _so very good_  wrapped around him -- is poking at his bicep. “Don’t think so much. You’ll give yourself an embolism.”

“ _Aneurysm_ ,” Rachel corrects. She’s standing in front of them, unabashedly nude, and is sliding on her panties. “An _embolism_ is a blood clot, whereas an  aneurysm is ...”

“Rach?” Finn says.

“Yes?”

“I’ve just had a threeway with my girl and my hot step-brother. I’ve had all the biology lessons I need for one day.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt says, and once he starts laughing he can’t stop. Finn presses a kiss against his lips which Kurt laughs through, and Rachel’s now dressed, sitting on the end of the bed in ‘Thinker’ pose.

“We should probably get some beauty rest,” Rachel points out. “You and Finn _do_  have class tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Sucks. But, uh ... we should go out this weekend. You could show me some more of the city you love so much.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow at Finn who’s uncharacteristically inscrutable. “Date night for you _both_?” he says, testing the waters again.

“No. Not really.” Finn smiles at him, then Rachel. “I thought we could _all_ do something. The three of us.”

“Ooh!” Rachel grins back. “Let’s get rush tickets!”

“As long as it’s not ‘Rock of Ages’,” Kurt says, tilting his head towards Finn.

“I was thinking ‘Aladdin’,” Finn says. “But don’t they have some kinda lottery, Rach?”

“Why are you asking  _her_! She got us fake tickets to a non-existent performance of CATS from a bum she met in Central Park.”

“He’s asking me because _I’ve_  been on Broadway, and anyway, _you_ would have done the same,” Rachel says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Some of us are just more ... opportunistic.”

“I’ll say,” Kurt mutters.

Finn laughs at that, because oh, is Rachel Berry  _ever_ opportunistic  and Kurt ends up smiling until his cheeks hurt. Perhaps they’re not going to outwardly discuss the ramifications of what happened, but it’s obvious that nobody’s feeling _too_ awkward. Finn and Rachel both seem comfortable, and calm, and maybe things will slide back into what will become some _new_ sort of normal, even if it would be ridiculous for Kurt to expect things to be  exactly like they were before.

“I’d be down with another movie evening,” Finn says, then gestures to the bottle that’s a lot fuller than Kurt thought it would be after an evening of drinking games. “I’m not drinking any of that pink crap, though.”

“It is not pink crap!” Rachel protests. “It’s top-shelf liquor! That’s what we  _drink  _in New York!”

Finn shrugs one shoulder and reaches for the glass on the nightstand. He finishes the drink, and his face crunches up so tightly it’s like he’s just licked battery acid. “That’s what we drink if we’re April Rhodes,” he mutters. “I only have one pair of smart shoes, Kurt. You’d better not puke on ‘em.”

“Who told you!” Kurt says.

“Rachel,” Finn replies, smirking a little. “Poor Ms. Pillsbury must have freaked.”

“Oh, and you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Kurt narrows his eyes. “Good job I didn’t use the same strategy you did to calm her down. Why, just --”

Rachel claps her hands together. “Boys!”

Finn’s lips press tightly together. Finn shakes his head at him, and before long they’re both dissolving into laughter, and it’s easy, and Kurt thinks that maybe he should feel some sort of guilt that he can go back to their banter not even ten minutes after they’ve had sex with each other, but maybe that’s just another part of their evolving relationship? It’s easier than it should be to reconcile  _his  _Finn with the one that was kissing him like his life depended on it mere minutes earlier.

“Okay, okay.” Kurt steps up, deliberately giving Finn what he hopes is a rather nice view of his ass as he redresses. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back soon.”

\--

Kurt walks into the bathroom, going about his business. He washes his hands, then splashes more cold water on his face than is strictly necessary to cleanse off that day’s grime. As he rubs moisturizer into his cheeks, he finds he can’t quite look himself in the eye. When he finds the courage and  _does_ , he startles, noticing Finn’s reflection behind him in the ornate mirror.

“We need to put bells on you,” Kurt says, wiping his hands off on a hand towel. “How can a gentle giant who dances like he’s stepping on legos be so stealthy?”

“I don’t like it when people call me that,” Finn says, Kurt seeing his frown in the mirror. “It makes me sound like I’m a freaking _bear_.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not into bears.”

“Huh? Why  _would  _you be into bears?” Finn places a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and squeezes gently. “Kurt?”

“Don’t ask,” Kurt mutters.

Finn rubs his fingertips a little before he removes his hand. “Thanks, dude.”

“For ... not telling you about bears?”

“No. Just ... thank you.” Finn’s voice softens, and when Kurt turns around to look at him he’s giving Kurt a slow, beautiful smile. “Thanks, Kurt. For everything.”

“You are more than welcome,” Kurt breathes out, and smiles up at him. He smooths his own bangs into place and looks back at his reflection, giving it a tiny, barely perceptible nod. “All yours, Finn,” he says.

When Kurt turns away, it’s with a little regret. The interaction between them is nothing but comforting and familiar; that’s the way it’s always been between them since the wedding, their relationship cozier than Kurt’s favorite cashmere sweater. The thing is, Kurt doesn’t  _want  _cozy. He wants  _more_. He wants to lean into Finn’s warmth for a while longer. He can still feel the touch of Finn’s sure, warm hands on his skin; he can still hear the awe in Rachel’s voice as she watched them, urging them on. Kurt loves Rachel. He’s loved her ever since he knew that he’d never be alone so long as he had her, but Finn ... he doesn’t think he’s understood how much he’s  _in  _love with Finn until now.

“I --” Kurt starts, knowing it’s a risk, but it’s one he’s got to take after everything else that’s happened his evening. “When Rachel said it was our first night together as the three of us, I didn’t quite think ...” he shakes his head. “I didn’t even  _hope_.”

Kurt can hear Finn’s footsteps pad over to him, and then Finn’s arms wrap around his chest, Finn’s head on his shoulder. “Well.” Finn’s chuckle is a little dark. “That was stupid.”

“Wait ... what?”

“Not thinking. Not having hope.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, if I didn’t have hope, I’d have woken up the moment you decided to talk to my girlfriend about how much you wanted me. You’re seriously not as secretive as you think you are.” Finn pauses, and Kurt doesn’t need to look at Finn to know he’s smiling. “Do you really have a playlist for me?”

“Uh huh.”

“You should let me hear it sometime. I sorta have one for you. It’s called ‘Kurt’s the Greatest Star’. Yeah, yeah, I know. Rachel’s, like ... the greatest too. It just seemed fitting.” He kisses the top of Kurt’s head. “I’m amazed Rachel kept it a secret for so long.”

“Kept ... what a secret, exactly?”

“ _You_. I guess it started back in senior year, and it took me a while to realize what it actually  _meant_ , and then Rachel sort of asked me about it. Said I kept saying _ Kurt this_ and  _Kurt that,_ and I sort of avoided it until ...” Finn steps back, and Kurt can hear the creak of the faucet running. “Well. You know the rest of that story. I just ... I just had to know you felt the same way before I tried anything.” His voice turns small, and quiet. “Rach said you still liked me, but I sorta wanted to hear it from you, and how would I even  _start  _to bring that up? You know I’m crap with words, and feelings, and I knew that Rachel gets all handsy when she’s had a few, so I --”

“Wait. You  _planned_  for this?”

“Totally. But if Rach thinks it’s her own idea, let her. ‘Kay?”

Kurt grins at him. “Your secret is _quite_ safe with me.”

“Cool, cool.” Finn turns around, holding a toothbrush in his hand. “You know, you’re really awesome, Kurt.”

“I love you,” Kurt says, quickly, while he still has the courage. “I really, honestly love you, Finn.”

Finn smiles widely at him. “Yeah, Kurt. I know.”

Kurt’s intelligent enough to know that a smile and a proclamation he’s awesome is as good as he’ll get from Finn, at least for now. There’s so much he wants to discuss, from  _when did you notice me_  to  _why did you notice me_ , but he’s feeling the very last of the adrenaline wear off, and sleep’s beginning to crawl through his bones. He leaves Finn to finish up and gives him one last smile before he walks back into Finn and Rachel’s bedroom and slides under the sheets which he knows Rachel will change tomorrow. They feel refreshing, soothing and cool like a chilled glass of milk against his skin. He says Rachel’s name softly, and quietly, but unlike Finn’s faking earlier, she actually is asleep. There’s a pink frilly sleep mask over her eyes, and a happy little smile on her face.

“I love you too, Rachel,” he says, fondly.

Rachel’s arm stretches out a little. “ _Finn_?” she says, quietly.

“He loves you too, Rachel,” Kurt says. "We both do," and he spoons into the curve of her back, breathing in the light, soft scent of her hair. After all, it’s typical of Rachel to be thinking of Finn, and Kurt’s finally realized that when things like  _this  _are the result of that? It’s pretty foolish to stop her.


End file.
